Crazy Like That
by planetblue
Summary: Cause she is fire. The hottest, deadliest kind of fire.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The late autumn flies and moths buzz and bump against the glass of the stadium floodlights as they shine down on the playing field. The green grass and white stripes now show brown and blue from overturned sod and the neon glow from the scoreboard.

Hot dogs, popcorn, and the smell of cut lawn mingle with sweat as dirt permeates the air, adding to the excitement that comes to my turf every other Friday night in fall.

There's no denying I get caught up in the show and exhilaration as much as the onlookers do. It's a fucking rush of power, watching these teenagers fight and push and strive to be the best under my guidance.

 _The Best_.

Some of these kids might only get this far in life, a dream, a "what if", a hope. But for these forty-eight minutes of game play, they're not a farmer's son; they're not working in the drive-thru of Burger King.

They're fucking rock stars.

"GO! GO! GO!"

I run down the sidelines to keep my eye on Newton, as the crowd behind me yells at the action they see on the field. It's only the second quarter, and already my boys are blowing away the opposing team. I'm trying not to smile too much and keep my game face on, but it's hard when it's so obvious just how much better we are than the Bixby Spartans.

Even through the dense crowd, I hear Tanya screech behind me, cheering me and my kids on. The rustle from my windbreaker as I run mingles with the sound of stomping feet and clapping hands. My own hands slap and pound my clipboard, drowning out the cries of distress from the opposite grandstand.

The plastic feels light in my grasp as I thrust it out in front of me, full of plays we've practiced a hundred times, but only matter when everything is going right. The sweat on my neck, chilled from the Oklahoma night air, clings as I hold my breath watching Newton run his ass off towards the end zone, escaping the opposing teams clutches, narrowly missing the hold of a linebacker double his size.

"TOUCHDOWN!"

The crowd seems louder than a freight train as the referee's hands fly up, giving my boys their six points. My own fists pump the air as the whistle around my neck flies up and hits me in the chin.

After scoring the field goal, the buzzer signals the end of the quarter, and I jog with them, giving accolades as we make our way across the running track towards the locker room where I'll give my criticisms, as few as there are.

Can't let them get cocky.

"Overall, a good first half, but keep your eye on where Emmett's throwing, Newton. I don't care how many complete passes you might've caught tonight, one interception is one too many," I chastise my receiver, who smartly says nothing, just nods his head and spits out a mouthful of Gatorade. The cinder block room is alive with activity as I point out things they did right and things they could do better. The freshmen that hope one day to have the chance to be where my players are jump around them with towels and bottles while my assistant coach ices down Emmett's all-star arm.

My speech turns to a pep talk, reminding these sweaty teenagers that there is no other option but to get to state. There's really no question that we'll be there, given their talent, but I can't let them lose focus now. Some of these kids will go to college, but most of them won't. They'll run tractors and fix farm equipment, but for right now, for this short but exciting time in their lives, these boys are the heroes of this small town that only cares about football.

The cheerleaders sound out loud past the entrance, giving their rally cries and keeping the pumped up crowd high for the next line of battle as I finish up. I kneel down in front of Emmett, his shoulder pads and jersey pushing out as his overheated body pants, and he gulps down a mouthful of water and we decide on the next play.

Soon enough, we're back on the field, my shouts of encouragement egging them on, and the cheer of the crowd reminding them that their parents, girlfriends, and classmates want only for us to win, make them proud. To give them something to talk about over coffee at The Empire Diner or Sunday dinner with Pastor Webber.

A tense third quarter leads to a successful fourth, my boys bringing it home under the energized nightfall of an evening filled with school and town spirit.

I high five them all as they walk off the field after congratulating the Spartans, who leave the turf forlorn and depressed. We all know the bus ride home will be nothing but silence and the quiet complaints of what _that_ kid or _this_ kid did wrong.

The next moments spent in the locker room full of rowdy boys are chaotic, the energy fuels my own exuberance. I was here once, and through them, I'm back again. Revelry at winning a coveted spot on the roster generates fist bumps, slaps on the ass, hoots and hollers. The first players begin to make their way out, showered and anxious to greet their girl who stands outside the gates, waiting to be taken to the Mr. Frosty down the road. I finally start to relax and come down from my high, so I adjourn to my office, moving to tack the stats to the bulletin board for us to review on Monday.

"Fucking yeah!" The shouts call out from beyond my glass windows, and talk turns to the party at Mike Newton's where my boys will get shitfaced and sleep with the girls so ready to be claimed by small town champions.

My adrenaline starts to ebb as I pull the whistle off my neck and stick it in the drawer next to the little four leaf clover keychain Tanya gave me at the start of the season. I stare at it before I shut the drawer and move back out to the party happening in my locker room.

"Coach! We did it!" Newton shouts as he passes me, towel slung low on his hips and a cocky smile on his face.

"Practice Monday, we're not at state yet," I remind as I slap him on the shoulder. Tonight's winning touchdown was a good moment for him and I give him that, even though I will again scold his bad fumble in the second quarter at Monday's review.

"I'm gonna go get laid!" I hear from far off in the locker room, followed by a rise of cheers that makes me hide my grin and shake my head. I don't parent them; my boys have earned this happiness, this party that always follows a game, especially when we win.

Somewhere a radio kicks up in volume, the clanging of locker doors a shallow sound as the team celebrates a bit more before leaving.

I watch over them, hands on hips, taking the occasional handshake, the occasional fist bump as my kids trickle out to drink too much beer and cover themselves in hickeys. "We won, Coach!" Emmett slaps me in the arm as he passes, one hand already texting Rosalie, who is sure to be waiting outside the locker room doors, one braid dipped in gold and the other, red.

"Monday, Emmett, we're working on snaps," I shout with a knowing smile, as he nods his head and grabs his bag before slamming his metal locker.

"Tell Mom I'm staying at your place tonight, bro."

"I'm not covering for you!" I yell at his retreating back, although we both know I will.

"Woman in the room! Woman in the room!" I hear, and turn my attention from my superstar brother to my supermodel Tanya, smiling bright and rushing towards me. The half-naked kids duck behind their locker doors, but I see a few checking her out. Her blonde hair and long legs are still things of hormonal fantasy around here.

"Oh, Edward!" She launches herself into my arms, not caring that I'm still sweaty and in my game clothes. "That was fantastic! You're going to state, I just know it!" Her silky hair brushes my face as she hugs me tight, her body pressed against me in a way these boys shouldn't see.

"Did you have any doubt, baby?" I smile at her as she pulls back, her hands pressed against my chest.

"Never. You're the best." I kiss her back when she leans in, congratulating me, and I wrap an arm around her waist.

The last boys depart, and Tanya and I wave. She knows these kids as well as I do and restrains from any further public display until we're alone with the sudden silence and post-euphoria calm.

She gives me a searing kiss as I hold her to me, her body fitting to mine like molding clay after years of practice. One hand cups me through my nylon track pants, and I moan.

"Your parents are here, they want us to go to Mr. Frosty." I kiss her head and nod in acknowledgement, before turning to lock my office door.

"You go on ahead, I've gotta pick up some smokes. I'll meet you."

A big sigh resounds from behind me, and I turn, knowing Tanya is not happy about this.

"I don't understand why you started smoking again."

Smiling, I turn a lock of her hair over in my hand. "Filthy habit, but it's stress. You know this."

"Stress." Her eyes roll at the familiar excuse, but a hint of an understanding smile plays at her lips.

"State… the wedding… hey, would you rather I was shooting up?" I smirk, placing a kiss on her worried forehead.

"Of course not." Another sigh. "Just hurry, okay?"

"Promise."

She leaves and I slap her on the ass as she goes, which makes her yelp and smile back at me coyly.

Switching off the lights, I do a quick double check that I've left no man behind before heading to my truck. I turn the radio up when I hear a favorite come through as I fasten my seatbelt.

One quick scan of the parking lot tells me I'm the last survivor, and I pull out, headed towards town.

The night is clear. Chilly, but not cold. I keep the window down as I maneuver through the blocks that make up the ritzy part of town. It's quiet here, all big stone houses with manicured lawns, topiaries, and wide, white sidewalks. Easing my foot off the pedal, I slow as I approach number 334.

The car in front of me is idling, the rumble of the engine the only sound in the still night air of the exclusive neighborhood. The brake lights in front of me go off, and I hold my breath as the person I'm waiting for takes their time in exiting.

I look around making sure no one is out, walking their dog, or on their porch sipping an after game beverage. The dull thud of a car door closing pulls me back to the vehicle I'm watching like a hawk, its sleek red lines stationary where it lies in the driveway of a home I have no place being in front of.

She's there suddenly, ponytail bouncing, the white and red pleated skirt and school mascot on her chest shining like beacons of wrong under the dim street light. I watch as she approaches quickly, her head glancing side-to-side like I was just a moment ago, making sure no one is witness to what's about to happen.

The passenger door opens and she's there, all vanilla and ice cream. All-American beauty and the devil's right hand.

The air in the car grows heavy when she enters, danger and sex and everything immoral encased in the small space of my truck as the door in her hand jerks shut and she sighs.

"Hi, Mr. Cullen." All breathy sounds and teenage life.

Her legs are smooth, her cheer skirt short as she turns, a hand twirling and grasping the ponytail that makes me lose my mind.

"Hello, Bella."

* * *

 **Hey hey! I'm so happy to have you here with me at the start of my new story! I hope you like it. As usual, it's finished and I'll be doing my normal Monday and Thursday posting.**

 **Please take a moment to read the following, as a lot of work goes into making me shine, and I couldn't do it without these three amazing women. I'm damn lucky to have my girls work so hard for me once again.**

 **As always, Lolypop82 made my awesome banner and put up with my OCD.**

 **LayAtHomeMom graced me with her superior pre-reading skills, while pointing out things I don't think of and making sure I'm not looking a fool. I'm truly blessed to have her care as much about my story as I do.**

 **And last but never least, Carrie ZM - my bestie... besides making these words readable, she's always there to talk me through things when I get unsure or tangled. She's my number one cheerleader and gives me the gentle prodding I sorely need. We always post chap one together on the phone and this was no exception. You can thank her for this one ;)**

 **Moving forward, any mistakes are mine, or deliberate choices of incorrect grammar, 'cause really, no one talks/thinks with proper English all the time! (Including this non-beta'd A/N!)**

 **One more thing then I'll let you go. TFMU is in Philly this year, June 25-28. I will be there and I'd love to meet you if I never have or hug you silly if we already know each other! Check out the website, Twificmeetup dot com.**

 **xoxo PB**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hello, Bella."

Her body instantly moves towards mine, melting over the bench seat and tacking itself to my side. Her hand moves over my thigh, over my athletic slacks, the one piece of material that separates us in any way, because I know.

I know she's wearing nothing under that cheer skirt.

"You were good out there today," I say, stupid and desperate for this young girl's affections.

"Were you watching me?" Her hand slides higher up my thigh, and I know I have to move the car.

"No," I lie, her breath pulsating on my neck as I drive away, off to a place we shouldn't be.

"Liar," she calls me out as she moves away and lights a cigarette. I welcome the smoke smell, knowing it's what gives me my excuse. She holds the end between her fingers, guiding it to my eager mouth as I traverse dark, sullen back roads. I suck the burn in, her fingers lightly touching my lips before pulling it from my mouth and bringing it back to her own.

Oscar Lake looms in front of me, and the car jerks to a sudden stop when I brake, impatient to be able to look at her fully again. She's on me in a flash, warm soft skin of a girl I shouldn't have but sets me on fire just the same. All I care about is her hand on me, her breath, her sweet, innocent kisses that are anything but because I know she fucks Mike Newton in the guest house off his pool.

Lips, hands, and tight body in a cliché jailbait uniform steams my windows in an utterly immoral way.

I know it's wrong, but I don't care.

She's moving over me, straddling me with warm fleshy thighs, touching my stomach with small hands, as I push up a skirt I have no right to touch. I feel her heart speed up against my chest, and it's all I can do to not come right there.

* * *

Murray slides over when I slip into bed, the sheets cool on my side, waiting for me to take up my space. His snuffs and snorts echo in the silent room until Tanya shifts and moves against the smooth cotton, and he relents to the foot of the bed.

"You didn't come for ice cream," she says, sleepy and un-accusing, just tired and dreamlike.

"I ran into a parent, no issue. Go to sleep, baby." My hand caresses her hip and sends her back into a trustful state of sleep. I lie awake, knowing the faith she has in me, even though I didn't come home for hours.

No reason to doubt, sure I'm telling the truth when I say some small town business took my attention for the night. Maybe Councilman Harris talked my ear off about his son, the car lot, and what his boosters mean for the team. Maybe I was held up discussing the upcoming book fair with Pastor Webber.

She only knows the life I've led her to be comfortable in. The lie I tell every time I kiss her with the vision of someone else clouding my judgment. The once upon a time sports hero and the homecoming queen who no one ever assumed _wouldn't_ be together.

I lie on my back, Bella's body still on mine like glue, her sticky perspiration adhering to me like Silly Putty might on a comic strip. I sniff my fingers in the warm cocoon our sheets provide, Bella's leftover scent making my pulse beat and cock stir. Part of me doesn't care that I lie here with her scent on me while Tanya sleeps, innocent beside me.

I stare at the fan above, the blades making long lines on the ceiling from the porch light across the street. My mind spins, thinking about where she went when she was done with me and left my car. It's where she's supposed to be, I know that. But I don't like it.

She's with that fuck Mike Newton at his goddamn keg party. She's joking with Emmett and gossiping with Rosalie while they throw cigarette butts into empty cans. It kills me that at some point, she'll whisper in my receiver's ear and lead him away with a coy look, making him think he's the luckiest bastard in the world.

Tanya shuffles to move in closer beside me and all I can do is look at the shadows, fists clenched and mind furious.

* * *

I'm raking when my father stops by.

"We missed you last night, Edward. Lots of people there, wanting to congratulate you."

The leaves scatter in the breeze, and I focus on the one that's stuck on a tooth of the plastic tool. Moving it back and forth on the lawn, it doesn't want to let go so I stoop down to pull it off.

"Yeah, I got caught up talking about the game, you know how it is. Everyone has an opinion." I'm careful not to name names, not sure who was at the ice cream parlor when I wasn't.

"You know, Yorkie should've cut to the right during the sweep, did you talk to him about that?" The change in his pants jingles as he rocks on his heels, back and forth over my small pile.

"I did."

"And Emmett, man, that boy can throw, huh? You know the scout is coming, homecoming weekend. You make sure you have him ready. I'll work with him at home too."

"You don't have to do that, Dad. I'm capable. I am the one wearing the whistle." The moment I say it, I close my eyes and look down, corralling the rust-colored strays trying to escape.

A low hum leaves his throat. "I would think you'd be thankful for pointers from a former coach of the Sooners, but you do what you think is best." He clears his throat and spits into my pile. The University of Oklahoma ranked at twenty-one by the time he retired, but to hear him talk, you'd think he had coached the fucking New England Patriots.

I sigh. "No, of course. Work with Emmett, it'll be good to get him from both sides." The kitchen door slides open, and Tanya walks out onto the deck.

"Hey, Carlisle."

"Hi, honey." He smiles with ease. Everyone loves Tanya. "Esme sent me to get the swatches she lent you." He makes his way up the steps and I watch as they hug warmly, before slipping into the condo, leaving me with my hands and chin propped on the end of my rake.

* * *

"Is he still smoking?" My mother flips her thick wedding book open and searches for the tab she needs.

"He is. I figure I'll leave him alone about it for now, until after the wedding."

"Smart girl, you have to pick your battles." Mom pats my fiancée on the hand, and they lean in to look at something probably covered in that scratchy fabric they love.

"I'm right here," I protest from the couch, watching videos with Emmett and my father. Ignored, I sigh as the women continue chatting and I feel an elbow in my ribs.

"Did you see that, Edward? See how the fullback ducks right, bowing just a little to throw the defense off-balance as he lunges forward? That right there is what Yorkie needs to learn. Newton too."

I nod, even though he's focused back on the screen with Emmett mimicking a throw from one of my father's Oklahoma State games. "The Packers are on in five minutes." I remind them, and I see the enthusiastic look on my father's face drop just a little before he recovers. I can't help but address my brother over his head. "You want to see a star quarterback, watch Aaron Rodgers, Emmett." It's a cheap shot, but I take the good jabs when I can.

"I turned down the Packers," my father mumbles, turning off the game, lost in his past.

Emmett shakes his head. "I can't, bro. I'm meeting Mike in ten." My ears prick up at the mention of Newton, my eyes flying to where Tanya is engrossed with my mother, cutting up magazines and sipping wine.

"Oh? What are you doing?" I swallow thickly; waiting for what I know is coming. My father stands, patting Emmett on the shoulder before taking the game out of the old VCR he keeps just for his tapes.

"The girls want to go see that new chick movie. I figure it'll gain me sack points."

"Emmett! You shouldn't talk about Rosalie like that."

Emmett grins at me before looking over to our mother. "What? I said slack points. For when I screw up, she'll cut me some slack." He winks in my direction and stands, pulling his phone out of his cargo pants.

"Is Mike still with Bella?" Tanya takes a sip of wine and shuffles in her chair to face us. "That girl can kick almost as high as I could, back in the day."

"I bet you still could," I say absentmindedly and well-trained, watching as Emmett types on his keypad swiftly. A memory of Bella out on the track, high-kicking with one of those tight, red things on that go under the cheer uniform quickly morphs into one of her kicking without them. I try my best not to look at her on school grounds, but sometimes, it happens.

Emmett puts his phone away and grabs his letterman jacket, talking over me and answering Tanya. "Yeah. They're pretty serious."

My palms start to sweat and I clench my teeth.

"As serious as you and Rosalie?" Tanya sing-songs, teasing.

The slap of a tape being stuck in its rightful spot in date order with the rest punctuates my father's voice. "Emmett needs to worry about football scholarships, not girls."

"Don't you worry, old man. I'm not gonna knock her up."

"Emmett!"

"Sorry, Ma." A horn sounds and Emmett makes a beeline for the door. "I won't be late." I get up and peer out the curtains. There's a twisting in my gut, hoping she's not in the car yet followed by its sudden drop when she's not, and I don't get to have a brief glimpse of her.

"Tell Newton to keep his hands to himself too." My muttering is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I put a smile on my face and turn back to three sets of eyes looking at me, curious. "Both those boys need to keep their eye on the prize." Sitting on the couch, I switch the Packers game on.

"Well said, Son." The couch dips as my father joins me, and the girls go back to tittering about the wedding. The first quarter finishes and my pocket chimes. I pull my phone out quickly, the words _Chase Bank_ lighting up the screen. I flick my eyes to Tanya before opening the message, a slow smirk I try hard to contain spreading across my face as I read the words.

 _The popcorn butter on my fingers can't compete with the taste of you_ _ **.**_ _xoxo_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I look up at her as she stands in socks on the blanket covering the bed of my truck. Her hair is wild… tousled and used from my incessant hands. The top button of her jeans stays open, teasing, showing skin still red from my attention.

Passing the joint to me, I inhale, my eyes squinting against the smoke but fighting to stay open enough to see her. Cause I never see enough of her. She holds her hand over her eyes, shielding a sun that's not quite bright enough to need the action.

A loud sigh escapes her as she reaches down to pluck the joint from my fingers. "Didn't you ever just want to leave?" Her hand shoots out to gesture towards the endless pastures of flat land, browns and dark greens spotted with an occasional tree or wood-slat fence.

"Then I wouldn't have you," I joke, but not really.

I feel her toe push into my thigh, and I grab her foot to keep her there. "You just had me."

"It's never enough." She squeals and hops as I scratch the underside, my finger trying to get inside the sock to feel her soft ankle. Her hand comes down on my shoulder to steady herself, pulling her foot from my grasp. Lowering herself behind me, her thighs make a V that my back cradles into while she keeps her balance by hooking an arm around my neck.

"Mr. Cullen, you say that every time," she whispers huskily, her breath tickling my skin, sending shivers down my arms.

I glance at the charm bracelet Newton gave her for her seventeenth birthday. "I mean it every time." Her arm moves in a tinkling of silver before I can claim it, before I can make it stay where it is. Warm hands slide across my shoulder blades as her lips press between them, heavy with the shift in the air.

"Edward, what am I going to do with you?" she whispers before pressing her fingernails hard into my skin, marking me like she likes to do.

She moves to sit next to me, pulling her checkered sneakers onto her lap to untie the knots she ignored in her haste to take them off.

* * *

"Do you like the pink or the blush?" Tanya asks, holding up two pieces of fabric that look the same to me. She doesn't really wait for me to answer, immediately putting them down in exchange for two shades of blue. "Blue is more your color, maybe?"

"What are we even talking about?"

"Ties. Yours and the groomsmen."

I play with the frayed edge of a swatch the same shade as Bella's lips. "In what universe did you think I would ever wear pink?"

An arm hooks through mine, Tanya's beautiful face coming closer. "You would if I asked you to."

I kiss her quickly and smile, I _do_ love her... I always have. It's been expected since high school that we would get married one day. She waited for me through college, when she couldn't go after her mother developed cancer. We put it off after her death while she took care of packing up her childhood home and helping her father relocate to a smaller, more manageable apartment. We put it off again when I was offered a job an hour away, causing us a long distance romance for two years, finally getting our act together when I was offered the job at our old high school.

If she wanted me to wear pink, I would.

My phone goes off on the table, _Chase Bank_ flashing. "Everything all right?" She asks, putting the blue away and moving to the greens.

"Yeah, I set up alerts on my checking account." The itch in me to reach for the phone is huge, my fingers tap on the wood table and mentally I go through the rest of our plans for today.

"You'd tell me if there were some limits, right? I mean, I know we're using a lot of my mother's money for the wedding, but I don't want you to go into debt for this." She gets up and snakes her arms around my neck, sliding into my lap. "Being married to you is more important than a wedding."

The small ulcer that's started to take root in my stomach kicks to life, and I pull her to me, checking my phone while her head rests sleepily in the crook of my neck.

* * *

There's something about walking the halls of my old high school that makes me feel like I don't actually belong anymore, even though I work here.

I pass my old locker daily, where Tanya would wait for me when we'd ditch on a sunny day. The boys room on the second floor where Mark Dell and I would smoke up before homeroom is now a place I'm in charge of patrolling. Parking in the teachers lot makes me feel like I'm in the wrong place.

It all comes off like a bad joke, the kid that couldn't make it in the real world and runs home to where it's safe. I feel like a narc, a hanger-on, a sad high school gym teacher that wants a do-over.

"Hi, Mr. Cullen!" Angela Webber calls, passing me with her tray of square cardboard pizza and giving me a wide smile while her glasses slide down her nose.

"Hey, Angela. Good spike today." I smile and her tray wobbles. Holding it steady with one hand, she pushes her glasses up her nose before blushing and scurrying off.

Marcus shakes his head and laughs next to me as we stand guard over potential food fights and bursts of teenage hormonal energy, let loose for twenty minutes.

"What?" Smirking, I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the chicken wire glass.

"Another follower."

"I can't help it if the girls find me charming." Glancing over to Bella's table, I keep my scowl locked tight as she feeds Newton a bite of her pizza.

"For me it was Mrs. Brockman. Chemistry."

I push off the wall and knock twice on the table in front of me, warning two pimply-faced freshman to think again about throwing whatever it is they have aimed towards a group of girls at the far end. "Marcus," I scoff, rejoining him. "There's no way a chemistry teacher was the thing of fantasy for a high school boy."

His shoulders shrug. "I was a nerd. Besides, when I was in school, my classmates did _not_ look like girls do now."

My eyes move as far from Bella as possible while I hum in response. The bell rings, the grating of chair legs on linoleum ringing out under the protests of the student body. Taking the last opportunity I'll have today, I glance at her table.

Her leg is slung over Newton's thigh, his head thrown back swallowing the last of his drink before he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and leans in to kiss her. She tilts her head giving him her cheek, while her long brown hair swishes over the back of her chair.

She smiles lazily at his attention, and I'm staring, unable to look away as I clench my fist tight in my pocket around the chapstick she left in my car. Her lashes flutter and her eyes open slowly, seductively, heavy under the black eyeliner she wears like a '70s pinup. Her dreamy gaze meets my irate one, and like she knows I'm a seething tiger, she purses her lips into that cute little pout that kills me and sends me an exaggerated, red-lipped kiss before mouthing her favorite phrase.

 _What am I going to do with you?_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bella showed me her phone once. She had me listed as _ProFitness,_ the gym in town. She thought it was hilarious. I've sent a text but she's surrounded by the cheer team, and I hope she hasn't done something dumb like change it to Edward or Coach. She's had two phones in the last three months, always forgetting she puts it in her back pocket only to smash the screen when she plops herself down on hard surfaces.

She reaches for that back pocket now and smiles, but doesn't open it. She will later, when she's alone and not about to change into her practice sweats. She follows the rest of the girls, laughing and talking way too loud like teenage girls do, into the locker rooms.

"Edward!" I hear coming from behind me, the boys locker room door opening and shutting quickly as players make their way to the field.

"Who?"

Big dramatic sigh. "Coach," Emmett rolls his eyes at me.

"What is it, Emmett?"

"Dad wants us to go over crossing routes today."

I don't say anything for half a minute, my lips drawn tight as I stare at my brother. "He's coming today, isn't he?"

"I told him he didn't have to, but you know…"

My hand runs through my hair in frustration, and I slap the clipboard against the cinder block. "Not your fault, Emmett."

"It might not be so bad, I mean, he was a college coach, you know? And I need that scholarship."

"Of course, Emmett. We all want that. Go get on the field." Emmett just kind of nods his head before the sound of his cleats shuffle away. It's not his fault he wasn't there for most of it, being ten years younger than me. He was more interested in playing Nintendo when I tore my ACL, taking all hope from our father that I'd become a college superstar.

And in turn, taking less interest in me.

Practice goes on, my father on the sidelines but more involved than he should be, calling out over my plays and coaching above and beyond me. I let it happen, 'cause you know, he turned down the Packers. We all make allowances for that.

* * *

"I want my own theme song."

My hand makes a pass over the white shirt covering my stomach, rippling with a laugh as I lay back, looking up at her standing above me. "What the fuck are you talking about?

"You know, like in a cartoon." She makes a weird duck walk, her elbows bent as her knees buckle.

I roll halfway on my side, and cover my eyes, groaning in amusement before looking back up at her. "You are so fucked up."

Those red lips open in disbelief, her eyebrows quirk, her small hands rest on her hips, all of her parts kissable. "It would be like when I'm walking down the street or entering a room. Very dramatic." Her hands splay out over her head, "You'd know I'm _there_."

My elbow feels the hardness of the ground beneath me as I half sit, my eyes moving down her body and settling on her bare ankles. "If you had a theme song, it would be more like a sexy stripper act…" And I start to hum cliché music. It's totally ridiculous, and she falls down on the grass, missing the red blanket she grabbed out of my truck by inches.

The blanket I've watched fireworks on with Emmett. The blanket I did dirty things with Tanya on the night I proposed.

It's always smelled like detergent and earth and truck, but now smells like the best kind of vanilla.

Her gaze is distant, off into the almost there stars and edges of ghostly clouds. My eyes move back to the lips I dream of at night. "Kiss me, Bella."

Brown hair moves over her shoulder, hitching up in denial as she cradles her knees with her arms. "Mmm… I dunno."

"Miss Swan," I grumble.

The pout shows itself, while black fingernails reach towards me, capturing my face as she leans on her side next to me. "How much do you hate me?"

My hand rubs up and down her ribs, catching on the shirt I protested against returning to her body. "I hate you so much."

"As much as the idea of me moving to California?" Her lips kiss mine, soft, sweet, flirty.

My arm pulls her body closer, so she's half laying on mine. "That's not even funny."

She fingers the back of the diamond stud her father gave her, a habit I love as I love all she does. "Well come on, I mean there's cows here, and too much grass-"

"The peanut butter ice cream I bring you is here," I talk over her.

 _I_ am here.

Her moody femme fatale eyes look at me like I'm the stupidest. "If I'm ever going to be the next Meryl Streep…" she trails, before leaning down to kiss me for real. She does this, says things I don't want to hear and makes it so I'll only answer in her favor.

My thumb traces the lip I just sucked. "You can be whoever you want."

"Am I the best?"

"You are the best of them all."

* * *

The smell of stir-fry enters my nose as I unlock the door. The one bedroom rental is good for us now, but Tanya will want to buy a bigger house sooner than later.

"Hey," Tanya greets casually, the sound of silicone utensils on Teflon shifts and slides against the big wok in front of her.

"How was your day?" My hands slide around her waist not at tight as they should be.

She backs into me, her left foot crossing her right, scratching with bare toes. "Good. Really good. We got the library expansion, which means overtime."

I'm happy for her. "That's great news," I reply, picking a piece of broccoli from the pan in front of her.

She turns, swatting my hand away. "There's going to be a party at the Swans, Renee wants to host a get-together to celebrate."

I hope she doesn't feel my arms when they tense. "The Swans, why?" I ask as I back away and move towards the bottle she's got open, a glass empty for me on the counter.

Tanya shrugs. "She was a librarian before they got married. It's close to her heart." I hum and sip my wine. "Say what you will about our mayor, but she really wants to make it a community thing. He's kind of cold, but she's… not."

Images of his daughter under me fly through my head, making the air around us uncomfortable. "This is something we have to go to?"

Turning, she holds her glass out for me to fill. "Of course! Edward, you can't turn down a party at the mayor's house, especially when everyone wants to see you."

I choke on my wine. "That's bullshit."

"You might think so, but you have your team headed towards state. And Emmett… well your brother is the best chance we've had in years. Of course you have to be there. Your parents are invited, and Renee says they're inviting the team and all the sponsors too, hoping to raise a little money for the library stuff the county isn't paying for. What else would you think?"

I'm thinking about the mayor's daughter moaning under me while I lick her senseless. "I'm thinking I'll have to hear about the twenty-fifth store the mayor is opening. Do I have to dress up?"

"Twenty-sixth," she jokes. "Maybe some dress pants and a nice shirt. But wear what you want, you're always hot to me." The ulcer kicks in 'cause I know she means it.

* * *

The Swans' house is big. All Victorian splendor and precise lighting showing off perfectly placed plants and huge bay windows. They want you to feel intimidated, like they're better than the rest of us, coming to ooh and aah with gloved waiters handing you shrimp while girls in aprons take your used napkins.

Tanya fits in, moving from couple to couple with my mother, arms joined together like they're the ones engaged.

I sidle up to the bar, knowing all talk aimed at me will be about football, but I need a real drink. A man drink of scotch or whiskey or bourbon. Not the bubbly passed around. Not the bubbly I see Bella sneaking when no one is looking.

Being so close to her with Tanya circling the room is a bit nerve wracking, but it's not the first time. I know Bella will behave, not wanting to be caught as much as I don't.

If we get caught, it would end. Neither of us wants that.

But part of me wants her to misbehave. Badly.

Her lips are blood red as always, smiling sweetly while she plays dutiful daughter, high school saint, the girl most likely to. She stows the empty glass of champagne quickly behind her and presses a Coke against her lips, fake innocence and making small talk with some lady in a bad green sweater. I chuckle, 'cause no one understands her fidgeting is really her turning her hips, slowly wrong, making me senseless.

Mike is off on the other side of the room, looking bored with his mother but really aching for the chance to take the spotlight my brother enjoys. He side eyes Emmett; in the center of a circle of enthusiastic sponsors and a few girls that Rosalie makes her own side eyes at from her place next to Bella. It's all very teenage soap opera.

I'm stuck in my own circle, made up of Mayor Swan and my father, debating the future of my brother and what I should be doing to get ready for the ever important scout visit three weeks from now. The fire crackles, and Mayor Swan looks behind him, towards the flames that are dying slowly.

I quickly volunteer to get more wood, happy to escape the confines of the arrogance surrounding me. As I make my way out, I catch the even more than usual dramatically made-up eye of Bella.

She looks away from me and I see her eyes purposefully falling on Tanya, before quickly moving back to her companion.

The air is crisp, almost too cold to be out in, as I walk around the massive wrap-around porch to the wood pile that sits at the back of the house. I pull a few logs off, not moving too quickly, and when the air shifts, my breathing intensifies.

She's slinked up behind me.

"What are you doing out here, Bella?" My eyes fall over the short skirt she's been teasing me with, fingering the hem while she pretends I'm not looking.

"I came out to see if you needed help with the wood."

"That's all, huh?"

"You need to take the seasoned logs, closest to the top."

"I know what logs to pick."

"Well, I'm just making sure, the new ones don't burn as hot. We stack those on the bottom."

I look at the hand that's reached out to point. So soft. "Why are you out here, Bella?"

"Getting wood for the fire." She's all throaty, husky.

I stare at her, one plump lip curling up as she stares back. She moves to the side of the wood pile, leaning against the house with a shiver to her bones as she rubs her arms.

"Fire. You like fire?" I ask, shoving the log I'm holding into the leather carrier.

"Fire is okay, it's dangerous. Hot." Her hands move behind her, a block between the cold shingles of the house and her ass.

"Don't tease, little girl."

"Never."

"Your boyfriend, your parents," I incline my head towards the house. "Right there."

"If I cared I wouldn't be out here."

I slowly move towards her, my body closing in on hers. "What are you going to do?"

Her finger rises, outlining the deep crimson of her lips like she's got nothing better to do. "I suppose I should scream, protest. Out here in the dark with a pervert."

"But you won't."

A shrug causes a suddenly bare shoulder as her sweater shifts. "Depends."

"On what?" On instinct, my hand moves up to press against the wood behind her, almost trapping a curl of her hair.

Her knees buckle slightly, her hands ghosting over the filmy cream of her skirt. "On how good you kiss me."

My lips hover over hers, my body barely touching; aware I've got her pinned against the side of her daddy's house. "Who says I'm going to?"

A laugh bubbles out of her, different than the coy girl she's portraying. "Oh, Edward," she chuckles lightly, "you know the choice has been taken from you."

Stars explode behind my eyes, instant hunger but a touch of rage that she knows she's got me.

I'll do the stupid thing.

My mouth descends hard, but then pulls back to make her reach out to me. Push and pull. I like making her work for it because it rarely happens. A small moan escapes her and I'm victorious, pulling back even more so her mouth follows my retreat.

"You think I want you as much as you want me?" She fights to gain power again.

"I know you do, you can't lie to me. Those lips can't lie to me."

"I've got a boyfriend inside and a dream to get out of here."

Her words form a knot in me, making me angry that she throws it my way in a fit of drama. "And I've got a fiancée and a life all spelled out."

Her hands burn as she shoves against my chest, "Well then, it doesn't seem like we have any reason to continue."

"Bella, I've had you almost every way I know how. And every time, I've claimed you as mine." She pouts again, sullen. Playing me.

"I've been yours." I give.

"How much do you hate me?" she teases, her way of telling me just how much she doesn't as her lips attach themselves to my ever-ready neck.

"I hate you so much I'm going to come back when this party is over and fuck you senseless with your stuffed bears on your bed and the picture of your last family vacation on your nightstand."

"Hate me, Edward. Hate me forever."

"I don't know any other way."

* * *

 _ **The lovely ladies at The Lemonade Stand interviewed me about Crazy Like That! It'll post tomorrow (Tuesday) on their website and will include an exclusive teaser for an upcoming chapter!**_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

True to my word, I leave the house soon after Tanya's passed out, drunk off too much wine and high off too much hobnobbing with the town elite.

Walking through the dark streets with the sounds that only come late at night, I feel a strange energy. A euphoria, an adrenaline rush, the ulcer tamped down for now in the late hour and mission. Stepping up the back porch stairs, I reach for the hidden key and enter the dark room, void of any leftover party evidence except for the low hum of the dishwasher in the adjoining kitchen.

I creep on the hardwood floors, past the piano, past the frames highlighting the Swans' most precious commodity. Bella in her cheer uniform, Bella wobbly on skates, Bella and her folks in Hawaii. The pale light from the neighbor's porch casts shadows over the walls from the large plant in the great room and me creeping along. It makes my image as I climb the round stairwell larger than life.

A predator looking for its prey.

Soft carpet meets my feet as I reach the landing of the second floor, and I pause, hearing snores coming from my left. I quickly walk towards the double doors on the opposite end, the ones slightly cracked open. The sounds of some melancholy chick singing low in the room and a hushed, pink light coming from the tiny nightstand lamp take my attention for just a second. Until I see Bella lying still, frozen, pretending to be asleep on the big bed as she likes to do when I come to her late at night.

Standing over her, I glance at her body, pure sin camouflaged in innocent pink shorts and tee. My finger traces up her midriff, lifting the shirt lightly as I watch her eyes move behind her lids until one finally squints open at me. I lean down, slow, torturing, as her thick eyelashes blink at me. Pressing my mouth to her bare, naturally red lips, she gives it all back, tongue and teeth and sex as she rises to her knees silently, her mouth pushing me back.

Her teeth bite at my neck and I swat her away, the soft sounds of her giggle barely brushing against my skin, making me shiver. One finger presses to my lips to warn me about not saying a word as she pulls away. She lifts her shirt over her head, and my hands have no choice.

They reach for perfect teenaged breasts.

My hands enjoy them, then my tongue, lips pulling and sucking on young, blush nipples as her hands grip my hair before pulling my shirt off roughly and demanding I lay down.

My girl fucking loves to be on top, looming over me like she knows the power she wields.

She straddles me, slightly rocking as I run my hands across her ribcage. A hard pinch to my stomach.

"Ow!" I look at her wide-eyed and with a laugh in my voice.

"You love it." Her lips smirk, teasing.

"No, I don't." My hands rest on her hips, squeezing, and my smile slips. It's all intoxicating, heavy, a girl singing about fading into you as bodies slip against silky sheets. I trace my fingers against Bella's soft stomach, up her torso, stopping to skim over a nipple, and gently ghosting over her collarbone until it comes to rest against her face, cupping her flushed cheek. "You're so fucking beautiful." I can barely get it out. My voice is thick, breathless.

It's like she can't take the sweet when she moves back, taking her skin from my touch to undo my buttons and slide my pants down my legs.

She moves her shorts to one side and in a too-quick move slides down on me. It's raw, it's dirty, it's Bella, and it's all I can do to not come right there.

I hold her hips as she slinks above me, her stomach gyrating and rippling as she takes me. Our breathing gets louder, becomes faster, and I stare at her as she opens her mouth slightly more, almost there, our bodies moving as those damn eyes flutter and close. I buck up harder into her, making her look at me as she starts to come, and with her deadly, addictive moans and dopey drugged eyes I follow, filling her with everything I have. With everything I am.

* * *

"Hey. You have to leave." A nudge on my shoulder and harsh whispers make me open sleepy eyes. Bella is standing over the bed, glaring down at me.

"Five more minutes. It's fine, I'll leave before they get up." I shuffle my head against the pillow.

"No, you have to go now."

I open my eyes again, disbelieving. "You're kicking me out?"

"I can't sleep with you here. You're too warm. I like to sleep alone."

I reach for my shirt on the floor, frowning. I know I have to go, but I don't like her wanting me to. "Are you telling me you kick Mike out too?" I bite.

Her stare is hard, penetrating. "That's none of your business."

My eyes widen, stupid. "Are you shitting me?"

"It's not. I don't care what you do with Tanya." The words punch me; her one shoulder shrug guts me, because it's true. She doesn't.

"You know I don't do much with her at all." I pull my shirt on, angry.

Arms cross in front of re-covered youthful breasts. "I never told you not to."

My mouth turns down, and I know I'm a fool. No, she hasn't. And that stabs me too.

* * *

She moves under me, pulling at me.

Soft but stilted, energetic yet mundane.

Her breasts are still beautiful, perky even. I try to give it my all, I do.

But it's not Bella.

It's not ruby red lips. It's not tight stomach and muscular thighs. It's not hope and paradise and all the palm trees in California.

It's comfortable, and predictable, and every boring word ending in 'le'.

I do my part, above her, saying words I mean for someone else, words that are too nasty for her but so right somewhere else.

I try.

But trying isn't enough when the phone set on vibrate is humming across the room in discarded jeans.

"Edward." I hear beneath me, "Oh baby just a little more."

My cock goes limp, frustration growing under me with a resigned sigh. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"

YOU.

You're what's wrong. You're what's the matter.

Frustrated sighs and untangling of limbs soon become silence, two people staring side by side at the ceiling for another night.

* * *

It's too chilly to go to our spot, but we make it one more time before we truly can't.

Bella rubs her hands together and I pull one up to my mouth, sucking on the tips of her fingers as she giggles. "God, I can't wait to get where it's warm!"

My stomach knots, it's not the ulcer but that other ache. "You've got a bit of a wait there; August is a long time away."

Silence and the removal of fingers from my lips. "I'm not waiting until August. I'm leaving around Easter."

"What do you mean? What about formal? And Bella, you have to graduate." Panic of shortening time rises in me, making me act parental.

"My aunt, the one I told you about. She got me into that workshop. It starts late spring. I'll go to Beverly Hills High." She fist pumps the air a bit. "90210 and all that."

I'm horrified. "You can't."

Eyebrows rise. "Pardon me?"

"There's stuff here you'll want to do. It's senior year. You can't just pick up and go. What about your friends, your parents..." Me.

What about _me_.

"I can't pass up this opportunity. Besides, you know I'm not much for sentimentality. I'll go to the homecoming dance with Mike, but that's it. That'll be enough for me."

"What about me?" I say aloud, before I can stop it.

Now her eyes narrow. "What _about_ you?"

" _I'm_ here."

Black-lined eyes look at me, a beat too long. "Yeah, with your fiancée and career and life so don't try to make me feel bad about looking for my own." Her face softens when she sees my eyes dancing between hers. "Edward, you didn't really think this was going to last, did you?" Her hand reaches out to stroke my chin, covered in stubble since it's Sunday. "You're getting married in what, six months? What did you expect me to do? What did you think this was? You weren't going to follow me to college." She eyes me warily.

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her I won't go through with it. That I'll follow her, that I'll give it all up for the teenage California dream. But I don't get the chance.

"I'm breaking up with Mike after the dance. I want to go with a clean slate, you know? No ties. Concentrate on my acting. This has been fun, great even, but it was always going to come to an end." She tries to hold my hand, but I give it a quick squeeze before releasing it, my throat burning.

"Why not just end it now? You're right." I slip my sneakers on and feel her tense beside me.

"You don't have to be like that."

I have to get out of here. "No, fuck it. It's been a blast, right? Best for both of us."

"Yeah." Her heavy, black eyes look at me as I stand, her arms around her knees and the breeze moving her hair across her face. "I guess."

Fake smile masking the true grimace and twisting going on inside me. "Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I let days go by. Thoughts and feelings changing by the hour.

Anxious and tempted. Forlorn then resigned. Pissed off but relieved knowing I've come out unscathed from my affair with an underage vixen. This is where I'm supposed to be, making spaghetti sauce next to Tanya on a Tuesday night. Moving the furniture in my old room under my mother's watchful eye to make it a 'craft room' on a Thursday afternoon. Tossing the football with Emmett and my father on a brisk Saturday.

My plaid flannel shirt flaps behind me as I catch a pass on the lawn I grew up playing on. It's too light for this weather, but I know I'm wearing it because it was a favorite of hers, slipping it on over her naked body after fucking our brains out in the bed of my truck.

I want to pretend it smells like her vanilla, but that's gone.

School isn't easy. She's aloof, with no texts or hair flipping my way, knowing I'm watching. Cold, reserved, a girl that doesn't seem a bit sad she just had an illicit affair that ended.

She's on Mike in the lunchroom as usual, their friends crowded around and making jokes or whatever it is they do.

She doesn't look at me. She applies her red red lipstick but doesn't mouth those words to me she likes. The ones that question just what it is she is going to do with me.

I watch, trying to hide from Marcus just what it is I really do during our lunch duty. My fists clench, watching the display, supple arms and sinewy legs draped over the kid I had a football heart-to-heart with not more than twenty minutes ago.

She laughs; her fingers running through his hair. It's not new behavior, it's not behavior meant to make me jealous. Which pisses me off, because it means she's not doing it for my benefit.

It means… nothing.

* * *

"Tanya, I really don't think I look good in navy. What's wrong with the usual gray or black suit?"

"It's a spring wedding in the afternoon. Be happy I'm not making you wear tan." She smiles and winks, ignoring that we had another issue last night in the bedroom.

"The pants are too long."

"That's why we're at a tailor." My mother pinches the material on the leg, hitching it up to skim my socks. She confers with the old man making chalk lines and measuring.

"The material is scratchy."

Tanya's eyes get that sad look, the one she's showing more and more lately. The one she used to hide better. My mother stands in front of me, blocking my view of myself in the mirror. "Just what is your problem, Edward? You've done nothing but complain all day."

"He quit smoking," Tanya says quietly, and I lower my arms to pull her into a nice Duggar-style side hug.

"I'm sorry. Just give me some time." She leans up for a kiss I gladly give, guilty for the kind heart she always has for me.

"Of course. If you want black, Edward, we can do black." She rests her head against me, her eyes staring at the numerous reflections of a supposedly happy couple staring back at us.

"No, navy is fine. It's a good suit. I'll wear it again."

"And it'll go great with the blush-colored ties!" She's excited again, thinking about the final choice of wedding colors, the very shade of teenaged nipples on silk sheets.

* * *

The Empire Diner in town is full, but I find Mayor Swan and my father seated in the corner booth easily enough, it's pretty much reserved for them.

"Mayor Swan," I say thickly, reaching out to grab his outstretched hand as I slide in. My mind skews crazy a minute, wondering if he's washed his hand since he touched Bella this morning. Maybe I'm touching her by osmosis.

"It's Charles, Edward. Please… I've known you most of your life." His mustache twitches up in a rare smile, which puts me at ease.

I order coffee and two fried eggs with bacon. Not caring much to stay fit now that… I shake my head to rid myself of her.

They start in about the scout from Oklahoma State, about how his visit falls in line perfectly with the town's bicentennial celebration. The wives are excited, and I remember Tanya telling me something about being on some sort of committee with Renee and Esme and wasn't that just wonderful?

I nod, smile, slurp, chew, not really knowing why I'm needed at this little meeting. I'll do whatever it is they want, they know it. So talk turns to boosters and the fundraiser Esme wants me to be in charge of, some sort of an indoor obstacle course for preschoolers that Saturday of the big town-wide celebration. I agree, because really, what else could I do? But I don't mind. I like kids. And it'll give me something else to think about.

"Bella…" The rest of Charles's sentence gets lost on me, hearing her name suddenly, casually.

"She's a great girl, Charles. You and Renee must be so proud of her. California is quite the change from a small town in Oklahoma." My father says as he puts his spoon down.

I cough a little, sip my water. "I'm sorry, what? I missed that."

Charles wipes his mouth, setting his napkin back down in a ball. "I was just saying Bella is excited about the celebration. This will be really the last thing she's a part of before she leaves."

My ears ring, my pulse quickens and hiccups. I have to pretend. "Where is she going?" Shaky hands rest on my lap, afraid to betray the casualness of my question.

He tells all about his sister, the one taking Bella away from me, and the program she's been accepted into. "You have no issue letting your seventeen-year-old daughter move over a thousand miles from you?"

"Edward!" My father barks, looking between Charles and me, always concerned about how he appears.

Charles smirks a little, before resting his arm over the back of the booth. "She's very mature for her age. I have no doubt if this is what she wants, she'd do it regardless of my approval." He eyes me. "She'd be going off to college anyway if she didn't leave in spring. What's the difference? Trust me, if that girl wanted to go to college in Europe, she would. Distance means nothing. You don't know Bella like I do," he dismisses.

That's right, I don't know her like you do. I know her in all the ways you would hate to hear.

I know your baby naked under me, I know your little girl's mouth on me, and I know mine on every part of her, your precious daughter.

The eggs in my stomach sit like lead.

No, I _knew_ her.

They start talking about Newton, thankful she's not leaving until after football season is over so it won't throw off his game, and that's enough for me and my stomach. I make my excuses, getting up and throwing a ten on the table.

* * *

I won't leave Tanya alone, getting her against the sink when she's putting mascara on, bending her over when she's doing the dishes, stripping her in the middle of the night when she's dreaming and muttering.

I take her fast and often, something she seems to forgive because to her this means whatever problems we are having are over. She just doesn't know.

I'm using her to fuck Bella out of my system.

And I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Routine is good.

School, Tanya, life… the normal life of a settled man starts to grow, take root. I have more years behind me with ordinary before the brief interlude of chaos that was being with her. I've shaken it off; shed her like dry, winter skin.

I barely look her way during my lunch duty. Trained after just ten days without her. I'm strong, I'm the man I'm supposed to have been all along. It feels good, moving on. Moving on to wedding planning and the town's bicentennial celebrations. Back to the things I used to do before her.

I make a real effort to be the man Tanya deserves, the one I once was deep down. I'm happy, content, my relationship with my father has never been better now that my only focus matches his own. We work with Emmett daily to get him ready for the visit in a few short weeks.

His change jingles over Emmett's grunts, the ball flying out of my brother's hand in a perfect spiral, directly at Yorkie, who we've recruited to receive so Emmett could get in extra throw time. I mention to my father that we don't want to push him, and he actually agrees, following us into the locker room and helping me prep Emmett's ice pack.

My brother sits shirtless on the bench, his shoulder and arm wrapped tight to hold the packs, and we watch the video Rosalie shot from the bleachers. I smile at them as he wraps his other arm around her, pulling her into his side. My father, however, is still not fond of the idea and engages Emmett in conversation so as to take his focus from the girl at his side.

I watch Rosalie text and a brief, vivid flash of what I imagine Bella to look like as she types to answer hits me, but I've gotten good at letting go. I give my head a quick snap and rejoin the chatter next to me. It's a trick I've found useful. I barely have to do it anymore.

The obstacle course Renee and Esme volunteered me to organize is a fun, light-hearted way to pass all the rest of the time not taken up by banality. We've got a bunch of wood frames the shop class built, some with ropes tied between them, some of them like steps, some of them built to crawl under. We're moving them into different positions, deciding what will be the most challenging. I've recruited a few of the kids to help, Angela Webber being one of the first to volunteer. I avoid her stares and the way she shakes a bit when she gets near me. She's sweet, but she's just a girl.

I don't do that anymore.

I've learned, gotten over the crush of youth and the forbidden.

Day after day I'm a rock. I'm engaged, responsible Edward. I'm a coach and a brother and a son. It gets easier, and I've made a conscious decision to try and fall in love with Tanya all over again. I've been taking her on dates, bringing her flowers, dancing with her in the living room.

I'm over my identity crisis, my almost mid-life crisis, my criminal crisis.

I'm good.

Until those deep, lined eyes flash at me briefly across the cafeteria one day, too quick, only to leave just as quickly, making me wonder if I imagined it.

It's the first glance she's given me in all this time, and I'm thrown.

I look at Marcus, like he can feel the sudden increase in energy I do, across the boisterous lunchroom. Like everyone can see what's going on in my head like a roadmap stretched out on a car hood with everyone examining it.

My pulse kicks up, my groin tightens, my mouth fills with saliva.

The spark of hope that comes from that briefest moment of eye contact is jarring. A glimpse from the eyes, I finally admit, that still visit me in sleep despite my best effort to medicate myself into a coma. The ache of how much I didn't realize I was craving her comes as fast as that.

A prick. A burn. A sharp sting.

And I realize I've been a fool, thinking I was okay.

* * *

Rose and Bella are loud in the hall, yelling to the other girls about practice and waving as they pass by. They shriek, as Mike and Emmett tease and flirt poorly as only teenagers know how to do.

The second glance comes when Rose says hi to her boyfriend's brother as they pass me, all swaying hips and bodies too mature for these horny boys. Her eyes meet mine as she tells that little skinny girl to be in the gym right at 2:45. The eyes I know so well, the eyes that stroked over me when she was naked, when I was naked beneath her, _those_ are the eyes I see there in that hallway.

But just as I think I see it, she's gone, hair swinging and ass perfect, leaning into Newton as he grabs her books, and they walk away from me. Her voice penetrates the air even from far away, that guttural laugh that is so real, not some fake girly sound, the laugh that my whole body is attuned to regardless of all the other voices surrounding me. I wonder if I'll ever lose that piercing jolt when I hear her.

I try to not let it break me right there.

Last period I'm watching sweaty boys play volleyball, leaning against the cinder block wall when my phone signals a text and for half a second, I hope. That familiar adrenaline rush sprints through my body, until I see it's Tanya, asking if I'm meeting her and her friends for happy hour. A drink sounds good right about now, but I know Bella made it clear she has cheerleading, and I know I have an excuse to be in that gym, counting footballs or marking off phony checklists. Maybe her glance meant something. So I make my apologies which are really anything but.

But later, as I'm faking looking at equipment I have no need to, I hear cheerleading is cancelled that day, and I wonder if she didn't do that on purpose.

* * *

I have dinner with my family and Tanya's dad, celebrating his 65th. I mow his lawn on Saturday, staying to have a beer when I'm done. I dote on Tanya, I act the way I'm supposed to. The happy since high school boyfriend he expects me to be as he talks about the future and pushing about grandkids, getting teary when he thinks of his wife and all she'll miss.

The week churns on, practice and obstacle courses and sex before the eleven o'clock news. But Thursday it happens, at the local restaurant my family has gone to every week. The name I'd almost forgotten I'd been waiting for flashes bright and hot. _Chase Bank_.

I take a deep breath, and open it.

 _Do you miss me?_

I don't answer right away. But everything in me yearns to. I finish my pizza, letting her wait as Tanya reaches across the table to pick the pepperoni off my plate I've let slide off my slice. She smiles at me as she listens to my mother, flowers and favors dancing off their tongues like a sudden black cloud.

 _No._ Punching in the two-lettered word under the table like a kid hiding.

 _You're a liar. What am I going to do with you?_

I look to the heavens, maybe a plea to tell me what to do, wanting to answer but wanting to make her suffer just a little bit. The heavens tell me nothing, except when the ulcer kicks in and twists my stomach as I look at my fiancée across the table of the pizza joint I've visited my whole life.

* * *

Her words resonate for hours, 'you're a liar'. Cause I am. A dirty fucking liar. Miss her? No fucking doubt I do. But she wanted this over, and Tanya is changing into her pajamas to get ready to slip into our bed. A bed she's safe in, where I've made love to her and told her she's the best thing that ever happened to me.

I snuggle up to her, warm and smelling like she always has, of gardenias and flowery patches of earth. While I nuzzle her neck, I think in my head 'this'll show her' and 'this will gut her like she guts me'. But I know Bella will never know this, she'll never know what I do when I'm not with her.

My moves on Tanya are only for her benefit, and I'm a snake, knowing that I've fooled her for another day. I've shown my passion for this woman, and she believes I'm there whole-hearted.

I'm back to square one.

It should bother me, it should shame me, but it doesn't.

Because that text in the pizza place was followed by another.

 _I know you miss me. I miss you. I want you._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I can't explain it.

It's like a switch has turned on and my whole world brightens again. Even though I know it's wrong, deceitful, probably against the law and definitely against anything moral, I can't deny I want her back.

 _All_ of it back. Regardless of Tanya, my family - any of the reasons I shouldn't just don't exist. But I'm stronger than giving in right away. My pride is larger than my hard-on.

I make her wait, not answering her second text for a few days.

Okay, it's more like two days.

I answer her _I want you_ with a _Why_?

She doesn't answer, and I wonder if I blew it, but the ulcer stays quiet so I tell myself this is probably a good thing.

Loading the dishwasher that night, I feel smug, knowing my phone is across the room in my coat pocket, not glued to my side like in months past. Tanya chooses two new shows she wants to watch, and I feel victorious as I watch both, my attention not focused on the phone that I'd watch like a hawk if this were a few weeks ago. We lay in bed with me being the big spoon, and I don't listen in the dark for the vibration coming from the nightstand, and I think I'm better than I am.

After my shower Monday morning I give myself a pep talk in the mirror, reminding myself how the last twelve days have been the proper twelve days. Not a pot-infused fantasy life filled with juicy lips and tight thighs.

I'm ready when I see her.

I'm not, however, ready for the daggers shooting straight at me.

* * *

Shuffling play folders and forms for new equipment around on my desk, I'm completely shocked when she comes storming into my office - the glass cage in the boys locker room. She shuts the door behind her and walks to my desk.

"Bella, what are you doing in here? You're going to get us both in trouble." I glance out the windows to see if anyone is lingering. It's not a gym period for me, but sometimes the guys come in to grab stuff from their lockers.

"What the hell does 'why' mean?" She sits on the desk edge, on the play book, and crosses her arms.

"It's a simple question."

Her look is disbelieving, morphing into a pout. Her leg moves across my knees, her butt sliding over the desk, creasing and folding the pages beneath her until she's semi-straddling me.

"Bella not here."

"Yes, here. Don't you remember one of the fantasies you told me about?" She toys with the whistle around my neck, her red nails making sure to scratch the shirt underneath, a feeling that makes me shiver in excitement.

I swallow hard. "Fantasies are just that. This is really, really stupid."

"I don't see you trying to get away from me."

I stand. And then back away.

My back is pressed against the cold cement, and she doesn't look upset, or dumbfounded. She looks determined.

She gets up slowly, crossing to me, my hands starting to sweat and my dick starting to rise as she puts that bottom lip between her teeth like she knows I like.

Two hands press to my chest and I'm done. I swoop down, kissing her like I've been denying myself it's exactly what I wanted. She is sunshine, the best, always sexy and making me want more instantly.

She is fantastic.

She is dangerous.

She is back.

* * *

We meet that afternoon, hungry and thirsty like camels in the desert.

It's cold out so we've found a new place, the heated hunting cabin my grandfather left my father that he barely uses.

Under musty blankets we fuck ourselves silly, Bella over me and under me and me behind her and next to her.

I hold her head as she goes down on me, her fiery eyes not leaving mine as she licks and takes me all in. My girl loves to suck cock, she's always been enthusiastic, but this is the first time she's kept my gaze. Her eyes roll back a bit as I pull on her hair, a bit rough the way she likes it. I rub the spot I pulled, my affection for her overruling the hard way she likes to keep it. I'm amazed when a small smile plays over her swollen lips as she sucks me into oblivion.

After, we're sweaty and spent. She surprises me by not leaning away when I pull her into me. "I missed you," she says quietly, like if she doesn't say it out loud it won't be true.

I shift my head back to look at her, auburn hair bright in the ray of late day sunlight breaking through the dirt-streaked window. One eye is smudged black underneath lashes as she looks at me, a hint of vulnerability on her perfect face.

"I-" She presses a finger to my lips.

"Don't. I know it was my fault." When I don't say anything as instructed, she continues. "That's all you're gonna get out of me."

"You told me not to say anything," I laugh, giddy with her.

"When did you ever do what I say?"

My eyes widen. "Bella, it's always been what you say." She just hums, moving her cheek down to slide against my chest. Knowing it's not going to get any deeper, I chuckle and run my hand through my Bella stroked hair. "I guess I'm taking up smoking again."

"For now." The shifting of her body against mine suddenly feels like sandpaper where silk usually lies.

 _For now._

I guess I'll take it. For now.

* * *

Tanya's glare from across the kitchen island does nothing to dampen my Bella induced high.

I raise my hands up, ready for a fight. "What?"

"I can smell it on you." Her fingers gesture towards me, the first two out in a 'V' like someone holding a smoke.

I bet that's not all she'd be able to smell, my mind flashes. "You said you weren't going to bug me about it until after the wedding."

Her shoulders slump slightly. "True. Fine. Just know that I was proud of you for quitting on your own." Now I get her back as she flips the chicken.

It hurts a bit, but not enough to not take full advantage of the excuse it gives me. "I'm so glad that's all you're proud of me for." Low blow, but I'm angry she's in front of me and not the hot as fuck brunette I've fallen so hard for.

I retreat to the garage to putter with some tools that should've been organized months ago, before Bella.

Tossing wrenches too loudly, I take out my frustration on inanimate objects. I'd be stupid to think this thing with Bella is long-term, but I can't deny that the feeling I have when I'm with her is something I haven't felt with Tanya in a long time.

There's the right thing – Tanya, marriage, kids, a home, having a companion.

Then there's the wrong thing – ditching it all to ride the Bella train as long as I can.

These two thoughts tell me what I've known far too long but haven't admitted.

Both things make me a complete shit.

Because Tanya deserves better, even if I don't.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The cabin becomes my sanctuary.

Sometimes she's there waiting, naked and playing maid as she dusts and moves all evidence of manly hunting things that 'ick' her out like the animal hides hanging on the walls and the old porno mags.

Sometimes she makes me wait for her, saying she just had to stop to get her nails done. It's a mind game, a mind fuck that she likes, but instead of doing them now to get under my skin, she does them because she knows I've come to love the anticipation of her.

It's like she thinks of me now.

With the scout visit, the obstacle course, state, and the big bicentennial celebration looming, it's easier for me and Tanya to pass each other coming and going. She's thrilled to be a part of it all, cementing her place in our small town society. She's busier than ever, making and changing wedding plans while starting to look for houses to buy once we're married. She'll leave a flyer on the counter, or her laptop open to a realty site, hinting that it's something I should be considering.

But honestly, I can't consider buying real estate with her right now. It seems so much more final than a wedding.

I shake my head the way I do to rid myself of things I don't want to think about as I sit with my father and Emmett in the bleachers. The parade committee is busy decorating a donated pick-up in our town colors, the pick-up that will chauffeur Mayor Swan and the homecoming queen, either Rosalie or Bella. I know Bella could give a shit, but Rosalie is really into it, texting Emmett during practice to discuss what color her dress will be so he can get her the right corsage.

My father glares as Emmett's hands fly over his phone, before he looks shamed and puts it away. "You know in my day, a girl would never… your mother would never contact a boy so much. That girl's parents should teach her how to be a lady."

I see Emmett's fist clench, his mouth about to open when my father says the thing he always does. "If it weren't for me turning down the Packers, you'd never be living here and you'd never have met her. Maybe I should've taken it." He storms down the bleacher stairs with his hands jingling his change and walks the track to blow off steam.

"Fuck him."

Looking at my brother, I'm shocked. He's always been the one enthusiastic along with my father. Emmett throws his hands out in front of him, gesturing towards where our father is. "He never turned down the Packers, they never officially offered him the job. Why do we let him continue to hold that over us? Like your surgery really made him stay. He wouldn't have stayed by your side in the hospital if he _had_ been offered."

We sit in silence until Emmett stands. "Come on, let's throw. I'm not ruining my chances of a full scholarship. I'm out of here come fall."

'Emmett?"

He turns back around. "Yeah?"

"Do you _want_ to go to O.U.?"

He hesitates and then shakes his head. "I want to go to Ole Miss."

Nodding, I stand. "I'll call them tomorrow and see if I can get them to fit us in."

We throw, enlisting Yorkie again because I truly don't want to look at Newton, and my father eventually comes back, yelling his thoughts across the field while Emmett takes it all in silently but with a new bond in his eye towards me.

It comes over me then, an awareness, a shiver of something I can't quite put my finger on. A sort of peace, like everything is going to fall into place the way it's supposed to.

Whatever that is.

* * *

"Kiss me here." Bella points at the inside curve of her bare knee. I comply, my mouth lightly sucking the sweet skin.

"Now here." Her finger slides up her thigh, teasing the inside and my mouth follows, salivating at where she's leading me. I look at her splayed open, her pussy inches from my face, pink with the softest layer of silky, bare skin.

She keeps it that way for me. I think.

Over and over her skin my tongue moves, getting greedier as each increasingly loud moan leaves her sweet, dirty mouth. Her hands thread through my hair, then caress, then grab. All of it driving me insane. I rub my dick on the bed underneath me, anxious to get to the place it loves the best.

My teeth nip the flesh and she swats my head. "Don't you dare leave a mark! What would I tell Mike?" I stop mid bite.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I don't give a shit what you tell him. In fact, this will be reason enough not to let him down here." The thought of his stupid spiky blond head between her thighs makes me want to hunt him down and break his jaw.

I bite harder, my hands grasping her thighs so she can't squirm away. "God you're such a jerk. If you weren't so fucking good at this I'd be really mad." Her moan as I use my tongue to soothe the bite makes me triumphant. There's no way that shithead makes her feel like I do.

"There's no way that shithead makes you feel like I do," I speak into her wet cunt, teasing her with my lips.

"He's a boy. You are _all_ _man_." Her fingers continue to weave through my hair, pulling on it like she knows I like. "I like men."

"Good, so end it with him." My tongue makes a long swipe.

"Just shut up and lick me, Edward. I don't want to think about Mike."

I couldn't agree more and go to town on her.

* * *

Thursday brings dinner at the pizza place - same old same old.

Tanya and Mom discuss the bicentennial as much as the wedding lately, and my ears are going to burn off if I hear any more talk about decorating a field or the goddamn country club.

I'm still slightly stoned from my quick hour with Bella, cramped into the backseat of her car, so I shovel food into my mouth, but it's also so I don't have to say anything. Because what I feel like saying lately isn't anything anybody wants to hear.

Emmett is practically falling asleep at the table, burned out from finals and practice and all the pressure on him. I hadn't realized he was taking it all so hard, I'd not noticed really until the other day when he said what he did about our father.

"Are you seeing Rosalie tonight, Emmett?" I ask, knowing it's 'date night' since Fridays are for games.

He picks his head up and yawns. "Yeah, we're supposed to go to Bella's to watch a movie, but I'll probably just fall asleep."

"I hear Bella's leaving for California in the spring! How exciting!" My mother chimes, taking a sip of her wine.

"It is." Sultry breath comes from behind me, and my head snaps too quick. Quick enough that Tanya looks at me funny.

"Bella! How nice to see you!" My mother stands to kiss her on the cheek, and dramatic eyes dart around the table quickly, landing on me.

The bite in my mouth turns to cement as our eyes lock, much longer than they should. "I was supposed to meet Lauren here, but she ditched me. Can I join you?"

NO.

YES.

FUCK.

"Of course!" My mother pushes into my father's side so he slides to the empty chair next to him, causing Bella to take her seat. Directly across from me. "We just started, help yourself."

Bella smiles and instead of taking the slice closest to her, reaches across and takes the one directly in front of me. "I just love the sausage here. So hot."

Her fingers move to her mouth as I sit dumbfounded, watching her suck the sauce off before taking a bite.

I feel Tanya's hand on my leg and snap out of it, turning to her and forcing a smile on my face. "Edward and I debated going to California. San Francisco to be exact, for our honeymoon, but opted for Mexico instead," Tanya says to Bella, whose lips move seductively even when chewing.

"I'm sure you'll have a great time!" Bella smiles at Tanya. "I don't see Coach Cullen enjoying those hills in San Fran." My family waits for her to explain while my head spins, dizzy at her closeness and familiarity. "You know, because of his smoking."

My heart plummets into my shoes, the ulcer burning and churning. "Edward, are you smoking on school grounds?" Tanya chastises me.

"Oh no, I saw him at the QuikTrip buying a pack the other day. I assumed they were for him?" she says sweetly, the eyes I know as seductive now blinking at me innocently.

"I'm trying to get him to quit." Tanya's arm comes up and rests on my shoulder, her hand rubbing the cotton of my blue t-shirt.

"Yes, filthy habit." Bella agrees as she suddenly looks at her phone. "Oh! That's my mother, excuse me."

"Did you have to chastise me in front of someone we hardly know?" I turn to Tanya, who has a shocked look on her face.

"Edward, I don't think she meant…"

"Stay out of it, Mom." The table goes completely silent, stunned at my outburst of discontent.

Thank God for Emmett, who engages my father in football talk, my sudden rudeness forgotten, at least by the three of them. Tanya still has her hand on my shoulder, but is rubbing it now in small circles. An apology, or an act for the family, I don't know.

My phone buzzes against my leg and I reach for it, assuming it can't be Bella, who's standing outside with her phone to her ear.

 _Tell your fiancée to keep her hands to herself._

I start to text, and I hate myself a bit when Tanya asks sweetly who it is, trying to soothe things over.

"Jasper," I lie.

I type with the screen angled away. _Ah, shoe's on the other foot now, isn't it?_

"It'll be good to see him when he comes for the wedding, it's been so long," Tanya adds and I just hum. I watch Bella outside, taking the phone from her ear to read my message.

"I do hope he and Alice bring the baby instead of leaving her with her parents. It'll be so nice to have a baby around!" My mother says, and Tanya agrees, the hand on my shoulder gripping just a bit. It's something we've discussed - and disagreed upon.

 _I don't like it. And I don't like you right now._ I can't help but smile, a bit smug, that she's feeling what I always do.

 _Yes, you do. You want me right now, don't you?_

 _Maybe. Come out here and prove to me that it's me you want._

 _You know I can't do that._ Although I really really want to press her up against the brick wall outside and kiss the fuck out of her. My tingling lips aren't just from the hot pizza.

And then she goes and does it. Says it. Makes it a thing. Turns me upside down and inside out.

 _If you love me, you will._

If I love her. If I love her. Do I love her? I look at Tanya, who I do truly love. And it hits me. I love her like a roommate, a favorite stuffed animal, like that friend you've had all your life.

But I fucking LOVE Bella. I CRAVE her.

"I'm going to call Jasper, easier than texting," I fib easily and my lips feel like dirty betrayal as I kiss Tanya on the cheek to reassure her we're okay. She leans into me, whispering, "It's okay if you have a smoke, I don't mind."

And that's when I know I should stop right there. Stay in my seat, eat my dinner and forget all about the harlot waiting outside.

But like most of my life lately, I do the wrong thing.

She's pressed up against that brick wall I imagined, around the corner of the pizza joint, in the middle of the thin alley that separates the restaurant from the book store.

A look of pure innocence is on her face, fingers twirling her hair with a 'who, me?' stance. "You know this is really pushing it. You sitting with us is risky, but this is plain stupid."

"You're here, aren't you, stupid?"

I grab her hand from her hair twirling and push it up against the rough wall. Her intake of breath tells me she's all about it, so I take her other and do the same, pressing my body hard against hers. She's tiny like this, her head a good foot and a half under my chin. Her thickly-lined cat eyes look up at me from below darkened lashes, and I grind my knee up against her, causing her to moan.

"Shut up, stupid," I tell her, and that makes her lean her head back against the wall, eyes closed as I continue to push my knee up into her. I watch her face for a minute, changing and morphing from pleasure to full on desire. Her hands grip mine tightly up above her head, and that gives me all I need to stoop a bit and take her mouth with mine.

The kiss is hot, made hotter from circumstance, and as my tongue is down her throat and her hips are using my knee as a sex toy, she comes, moaning into my mouth.

It might be the hottest thing I've ever been a part of.

I let her up for air and her breath fans out across my face, quick short pants of spent energy. "Jesus, Edward. Wow."

Kissing her quickly, I release her and stand there smugly as her chest heaves. "I can't go back in there like this," she says.

"Yeah, you should probably run along, date night with Rosalie and Emmett at your house, right?"

"I can't possibly look at Mike after that."

"Good. Mission accomplished."

* * *

Love. The word sticks to me like honey on a spoon.

I would've said no before. I wouldn't think it possible. But having Bella be the pursuer, the one to be jealous and anxious and needy is something I didn't know I'd like so much.

The last few days have been eye-opening. And it's not just about Bella, it's about me. Following along like a meerkat with what everyone expects of me. That disgusts me, makes me pity myself, but really my life has been pretty good. It's not like I was forced to buy the ring.

I just never thought of another way. What does Edward want to do? Why hasn't he ever asked himself that before?

Tanya is on the couch across from me, and I start to think about what it would be like if we didn't go all the way to the happily ever after. It's the first time I've really considered it seriously. She'd meet someone, surely. She's beautiful, and kind, and has a big heart.

But I don't know if I could be the one to break it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It's like I can't breathe without her, this new version of Bella. The one that loves me.

She forgoes Mike, choosing to spend her time with me. I know this cause I'm there when the calls come in, when the texts come in, wondering where she is.

She ignores them, looking at her phone like it's an annoyance. Like right now, as we sit in the cab of my pick up, sharing her cigarette.

"Why don't you just break up with him?"

Venom. Snapping and turning her perfect lips ugly. "Why don't you end your engagement?"

Low blow. "It's not that easy."

"You seem to think my breakup would be easier than yours. Why? Cause we're in high school and it's stupid teenage stuff?"

"That's one reason."

Glaring. "You think I don't know that you and Tanya were high school sweethearts? Don't be a judgmental, condescending prick."

"It's completely different, Bella. For one, she was the only one I was with," I give her a pointed stare. "Second, Tanya and I have been together over ten years, since we were freshman. Not only since the summer before senior year like you and Newton," I say his name with a twisted, sour mouth out of habit.

"Yeah. And tell me what you have is the best fucking thing ever. The relationship to end all relationships."

Silence. She inhales and squints against the smoke coming out of her mouth.

Then I say it. "You want me to end it?" Visions of wedding and life planning hang there, giving her the opportunity.

"I wouldn't feel guilty if you did."

My world crashes, everything I've known. I just put it on her to make a decision I should've long ago.

"You saying there's a reason to?"

"I'm saying there's no reason not to. I wouldn't mind."

And even though it's cryptic, twisted and not really said, I hear it loud and clear.

* * *

The next few days are extraordinary.

Bella texts me day and night, asking me to meet her, go to the cabin, come to her bedroom. She's careful not to say hello in school, but she doesn't hang on Mike like she used to.

Her feet are in my lap, one manicured big toe dangerously close to my dick that is stiffening again despite the fucktastic blow job it just got.

I feel reflective, laying here in her bed past midnight, with her so comfortable, not the ordinary. "Did you always know you wanted to act?" My finger grabs her toe and pulls gently.

"Oh yeah. I used to put on plays in the backyard. Made Mom and Dad sit on the swing set while the porch became my stage." I smile, picturing that scene pieced together from the pictures of a younger Bella that hang in her stairwell. "Did you always want to coach football?" she teases, moving her body closer so her side is pressed against mine.

I'm surprised when it comes out so quickly. "No." She looks at me, waiting. Something she wouldn't have done weeks ago, showing interest in anything past _this_. "I always wanted to own a bar."

Her eyes widen. "Really? Why don't you?"

"My father is a retired college football coach."

She frowns, mulling over my answer. "That's his dream. No one said you had to do what he did."

"No, but it was implied."

She turns over onto her stomach, hiding her breasts from me. "You read it that way. Didn't mean you had to do it."

And she's right. About all of it. It's me that chose everything in my life that seems to be careening into a life I don't want.

"Maybe I'll go to Hollywood with you. Buy a bar," I joke, and instantly wish I hadn't, anticipating her past flippant responses so ingrained in her personality where we're concerned.

"You should. I could be your struggling actress waitress." Her hand moves over me with affection, slightly hesitant. It's not the pinches I know when she's fucking around.

I don't know if she's joking or not. But I don't press it, just in case she is.

* * *

Without Tanya noticing, I start to move out my stuff.

Little things, to the cabin, like my box filled with high school accolades, my diploma, my statue of the shoe I got for the MS walk.

I figure I'll have to stay here once I call off the wedding, until the school year ends, and I find a job in California. The obvious thing is to find a coaching or PE position for now, until I figure out if I'm really going to go all the way and do the bar thing. The idea of Bella working for me makes my heart rush and my dick harden, I'd make her wear tiny shorts and a little bar apron. A tight, white T-shirt with my name across her tits.

I'd own her and everyone would know it.

Getting lost in fantasy only makes reality crash down harder, when as I'm cleaning out the garage 'to make more room', I start to think about just how I'm going to go about changing my life and ruining the life of the one person who doesn't deserve it.

There's no good way. She'll hate me less if I do it before it's too late to get deposits back on venues and caterers. Before the dress comes in for final fittings and before we start house hunting.

Who am I kidding? She's going to hate me regardless. And I'll deserve it, and I'll take it, and I'll be the bad guy the entire town will see me as until I leave. Hopefully they won't learn about Bella and me until I'm far gone, away from it all.

My hands touch Christmas decorations in a box, something I won't be moving, and I'm about to close the lid when the cheesy picture of Tanya and me sitting on Santa's lap senior year that she made into an ornament sits staring at me from the top of the pile.

I stare at it as I rub my churning, acidic stomach, and I feel a bit of sadness, but I think it's more for the loss of everything that's familiar and not really for the loss of our relationship. Closing the lid slowly, like I need to protect the contents within, I push it back into its spot in the corner.

Maybe I'll wait until after Christmas to kill her and every dream in her head.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly.

In the best possible way. Bella can't get enough of me - and me her. She's in every cell, every blood vessel, every atom that makes up the _new_ Edward Cullen.

The happy one. The one that has a plan of his own making.

Despite knowing what I'm about to do to everyone I care about, I smile during practice with Emmett and my father, only one short week away from the visit that will hopefully establish Emmett's future. The Ole Miss scout is making the rounds and fitting our town in. I haven't told my father and neither has Emmett.

I catch Bella flirting with me out on the field when it's not too cold to chase cheer practice inside. No one but me would know the signals she sends my way without eye contact. Her hand brushing the inside of her thigh as she lowers to the ground in a split, the way she pouts those lips after calling out the team letters, the way she mouths her words, 'what am I going to do with you' from fifty yards away.

* * *

Bella gets nominated homecoming queen and wants to turn it down.

"Rosalie lives for this shit, she should be up there, not me."

"Is she mad?"

"No, Rosalie doesn't get mad. She's happy for me, and she'll be in the car behind. She's excited for me but doesn't understand why I don't care."

"Well, we won't be here for you to be prom queen, and you'll wish you did all these things later in life, if you don't." My eyes widen slightly as I realize I said 'we'.

But she doesn't seem to notice or doesn't object. One eyebrow arches. "Do you know me?" She smiles, and leans in to give me a sweet kiss. I'm still mildly surprised at the affection she shows me, it's taking some getting used to. "Fine. I'll do it. But you have to take me dress shopping."

I choke on the smoke I just sucked in. "I'm sorry, I think I just shit myself. What?"

Fingers stroke my arm, up and down, the skin and the little hairs rising so they can get closer to her light touch. "It wouldn't be as much of a chore with you as it would be with my mother."

"Uh, don't you think she'll be upset?" And WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

"Nah. My mother is more like me. Practical. I'll show her whatever I get, and she'll understand I saw it and bought it when I found it. I don't need some bonding mother-daughter shopping trip. This isn't a wedding dress, it's a goddamn glorified Miss America dress that's going to be sitting on the bed of a pickup covered in crepe paper."

I'm savoring the thought of being with Bella in public, holding her hand, joking and laughing without being in a car or the cabin.

But mostly, I'm savoring the fact that this was her idea. It's huge.

"Where would we go?"

"If we go to Springfield, no one will know us."

"Missouri? That's a three hour drive."

"Well you'd better get some project planned for Saturday then. Tell her you're going to an all-day quitting smoking seminar." Her pretty mouth turns into a smirk, and she knows I'm one hundred percent in.

* * *

Spending the day with Bella is nothing short of awesome.

Not having to stay confined to one of three meeting places makes me see her in a whole new way. It's things I'd never thought of... how she interacts with others she doesn't know, the way she walks when not having to navigate crowded hallways, how she is when we're doing something besides having sex.

She takes me to only two dress stores, her decision because I'd watch her try shit on day in and day out. Seeing her curves covered in shiny material of different colors, different lengths, and plunging necklines could never get old. I think when we're finally truly together, I'll be happy just watching her dress and undress every day.

The last one is the winner, she claims, although I thought they all looked good on her. She's settled on a dark blue long one with some sparkly things that make it look like it's belted. The neckline comes down into a sharp v in the front and back, and she asks me with a crook of her finger to slip into the dressing room.

I look around quickly before shutting the door behind me. "I need help with the zipper." She laughs a bit, and I know she doesn't really need my help. She turns, moving her long hair off to the side of her shoulder. I let my fingers trail down her neck to the metal, and seeing her shiver slightly makes me tease her more. My thumb dips into the back of the dress as I pull the zipper down, my nail skimming her bare skin. I lean into her ear, whispering about what sin and beauty lies under that dress.

She turns and kisses me deep, both hands resting on either side of my face to guide me where she wants me. She pulls, pushes, takes complete control and moves her mouth down to my neck. I get lost in the feeling of her pressed against the stubble there and realize too late she's marking me.

"Fuck, Bella." She moves back at my gentle push, and I look at the mirror. There's a red mark beginning to bruise under my ear, and I know there's no way to cover it. Her sly smile reflected in the mirror tells me it wasn't an accident, she didn't get lost in the moment.

As my fingers move over the spot, I can't be mad. She's not being cautious, she's not caring, and that means I'm hers.

* * *

"You're donating all of that?" Tanya is lying on our bed, watching me move shit out of the closet.

"Sure. Besides, it'll be less to move-" I catch myself. Closing my eyes, my jaw clenches. _Careful, asshole. This isn't how you want to do it._

The air hangs heavy in the room, but I feel her excitement behind me. "We're going to start looking for a house?" I turn my head to look at her, blue eyes big and smile hopeful.

"I was going to say 'move to the lower rail'." Her face falls and I'm a dickfuckshithead. Tell her. Tell her now. "Tanya, I think we…" But it doesn't come out, and then the phone chimes on the nightstand and she grabs it.

"Chase Bank, again." The phone lays limp in her outstretched hand. "You're sure we're not stretching ourselves too thin?" she asks for the fifth time. Because Chase Bank alerts me a lot.

"I'm sure."

"Are you having an affair with a teller, then?" She laughs and throws the phone at me.

I breathe out. "No, I'm sure of that too." And it's the first lie I haven't told her in ages. Followed by the millionth. "I gotta go over the final obstacle course at the gym."

"Okay. Chinese tonight? Can we go out?"

I look at her, the words that will change her whole life and mine slipping down my tongue until it's too late to revive them. I lean down to kiss her forehead. "Whatever you want," I say, but think Bella's words.

For now.

* * *

I wait at the cabin for two hours. I stare at my phone, nothing. No answer, no call, no text.

Normally I wouldn't worry; she doesn't pick up all the time, like when she's with Mike. But this meeting was her idea, and I don't think she'd allow herself to get sidetracked by him...

Until I start to believe that she is. I pace the wood floor, the area rug Bella brought up rubbing against my bare feet as I walk between the boxes I've stashed and the bed.

She wouldn't, would she? Maybe she had no choice. Maybe he cornered her. She could be breaking up with him, wanting to surprise me when she gets here, but it's taking longer than she thought.

Maybe he's mad, and they're in a screaming match. What if he's getting angry and violent and pushing her around?

I pull at my hair, unsure what to do. We have a rule, two unanswered phone calls and that's it. That's the cutoff point.

But that fucker could be hurting her.

Staring at my phone, my thumb hovers over the 'send' button a second before I press it. It just rings. Rings and rings until her sassy voicemail proclaiming she's not available starts. I don't listen to all of it, but hit send again as soon as I've hung up. I'm breaking the rules, but Jesus, what's one more, especially if she needs me? Another non-answer.

Ring. Ring. Ring. She answers and before she speaks I bark. "Are you okay? What's going on, where are you? Hell Bella, you've got me worried here."

"Who is this?"

A very masculine, very Mayoral Charles Swan is on the other end and I freeze.

"And do you want to tell me why you're worried about my daughter and just where in hell she's supposed to be?"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK fuck fuck FUCK.

I don't know what to do so I do the stupidest thing imaginable. I hang up.

My heart is beating straight out of my chest, across the floor and jumping ship out the window. Dropping the phone on the bed, I grab two handfuls of hair and hold my breath.

I stare at the phone like it's going to morph into Mayor Swan himself and wait for the end of my life.

Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

My mind is a complete blank as I stand there, in the place where I do unimaginable things to his daughter. This is probably the first time my dick hasn't been hard thinking about what I do to her.

Grabbing the phone back up, I sit on the edge of the bed and go into damage control. I didn't confirm it was me. As far as I know, Bella has ProFitness as my name in her phone. I can deny deny deny.

Unless my girl fucked up and my name flashed across the screen in giant neon green letters.

EDWARD

EDWARD CULLEN

COACH CULLEN

THE GUY THAT FUCKS ME THAT REALLY SHOULDN'T CAUSE MY DADDY WILL KILL HIM

The phone rings in my hand, Chase Bank lighting up and I drop it to the floor like it's a hot iron. I can't answer it. Can I pretend to be the gym? Before I can figure it out, it stops, and I realize something big.

It's just gone to voicemail. My outgoing message clearly stating that I am me has quite possibly just played in Mayor Swan's ear.

Suddenly I'm desperate to get out of the cabin and go home, take Tanya out to dinner for a few reasons. One, to get her out of the house if Mayor Swan shows up, and two, to piece together an alibi.

As I drive I find one of Bella's half smoked cigarettes in the ashtray and light up, trying to calm myself down.

Nothing happened. He knows nothing. He's already forgotten about it and is in some random town meeting in his stuffy home office.

But then I think, WHY did he answer? Maybe she's sick? Maybe she was in an accident? Oh god, what if that fuck Newton hurt her and she called her dad bleeding and crying to come get her at his house?

When did I start panicking like a chick? Oh right, when I became crazy like that.

I take two more puffs, the butt so short it burns my lips, but I don't care. I toss the rest out the window when I get closer to the rental, looking left and right for the Mayor's Lexus.

Running quick up the steps when I don't see any sign of him, I burst through the front door to a startled looking Tanya. "Edward! What is it? Are you okay? You're sweating and out of breath."

Realizing I probably look exactly how I feel, I pat my hand across my hair and smile, trying to ooze nothing but 'all is right in my world' vibes. "Nothing, just the obstacle course. Come on, let's go have that dinner."

She closes the bride magazine that's been mocking me from the coffee table all week. "Don't you want to shower?"

"No, I'm starving. I'm fine."

"At least change your shirt." I look down at my gray Henley, sweat showing on the collar and under the arms and agree.

Fifty seconds later, I'm hustling her out the door. I quickly glance for signs I'm about to be gunned down and see none, so we set off to her favorite restaurant, twenty minutes away.

That should buy me some time. For what, I'm not sure.

* * *

My moo shu pork is tasteless, heavy. I drink three bottles of Tsingtao while Tanya looks at me funny. I'm half hoping for my leg to vibrate under the table and half happy it hasn't. When Tanya excuses herself, I pull the phone out only to see it's dead.

FUCK

I hurry Tanya through dinner, now eager to get home to charge up. She's mildly disappointed this didn't turn into a nice date night, but I can't worry about that right now. I'll make it up to her.

As soon as my phone has enough power to turn on, I sit anxiously, waiting for what I expect. Numerous chimes, missed calls, anything to tell me that I'm freaking out for nothing.

But that's what I get. Nothing.

There's no way I can call her. I walk out into the living room patting my pockets like a champ. "I gotta go run out. Smokes." Not waiting for Tanya's reaction, I grab my keys from the basket on the table, but my hand hovers a moment, and I grab Tanya's Jetta keys instead.

This drive to Bella's in the dark feels decidedly different. There's no pulling at my heart, there's no stomach filled with excitement and no cock filled with anticipation. There's only dread, like that sixth sense you get just before you turn a corner and know you're about to see a horrific accident.

I slow when I approach Bella's house and park two houses away across the street. The house is mostly dark, the only light coming from the great room at the back of the house I can see reflected in the trees. Bella's car is there, as are both her parents'. I don't know what I thought I'd see, or do, but it's obvious there's not much I _can_ do, so I sit for another five minutes before driving home.

* * *

Waiting is torture.

Sunday breakfast sits in my stomach like lead, Tanya chirping away as she reads the paper and sips the vanilla coffee she loves, the scent reminding me of Bella which only makes the morning drag on further.

I don't go to the cabin, I don't 'make room' in the garage. I sit on the couch and pretend to watch football.

Finally around one, the phone rings. But it's not my cell. It's the house phone. And I know. Cause no one ever calls the house phone. I close my eyes and wait for it.

"Edward! It's Mayor Swan!" Tanya hisses as she covers the mouthpiece with her hand, obviously excited at the idea that one of the upper crust from town is calling me on a Sunday.

I take the phone and nod. "It's probably about the bicentennial," I say, and maybe I'm thinking if I say it out loud that it'll become magically true.

Clearing my voice and broadening my shoulders, I speak. "Hello? Mayor Swan, how are you?" Tanya smiles and moves to the couch, picking up that fucking bride magazine.

"Edward. I think we need to meet. I'll see you at the diner at two." He's all business, giving me no idea what's going through his head. He hangs up, and I pretend he's still on.

"Yes, that sounds great. I'll see you then. Goodbye." I put the phone back on the receiver, holding it for a moment. The diner is good, right? It's public, he can't carry a gun and shovel in there. The parking lot will be crowded, so the chances of him stuffing me in the trunk are slim.

"I have to go meet Mayor Swan."

"Okay, honey. I'll tell your folks you'll be late." Fuck. Sunday dinner and football.

"Yeah, thanks. Uh, I won't be too long." What does one wear to their own funeral? I decide on a conservative button down and make sure to throw my coach jacket on, reminding him that I'm a respected member of the community.

My mind is racing throughout the drive, is this it, does he know, maybe it _is_ about the bicentennial. Then also, if it is what I think, is my father going to be there? In that corner booth they preside over the town in? I wipe my hands on my jeans and wish I had a cigarette.

I don't see my father's car in the parking lot, but the Lexus is there. Taking three deep breaths and running scenarios and possible answers in my head, I realize there isn't going to be an easy answer. If he knows, if it's over, my life is over. I'm not going to deny it all and throw Bella under the bus.

Walking in, he's where I expect and I stand tall, moving to the table and sitting opposite. "Mayor Swan." I nod and clasp my hands in front of me on the cold surface. The waitress comes over with the coffee pot, and he waves her away without a word.

"Do you know how I spent my evening, Edward?" I'm smart enough not to answer. "I spent it with my hysterical daughter and distraught wife." He pauses, his eyes never leaving mine, staring me down. He moves a hand over the table, his words coming low and sharp as his finger punches the surface. "You are nothing but a sexual predator, a pedophile. You deserve to lose everything. Your life, your freedom, your family."

My hands move from the table to my head. I can't even pretend anymore. I close my eyes tightly, visions of my freedom being taken from me. My head throbs, my heart pounds, my eyes are squeezed so tightly I see bursts of atoms exploding behind my lids. Fiery, intense. Moving to my ears and making them ring.

"Boy was I surprised when I answered Bella's phone. I'm thinking, why is the gym harassing her?" He rubs his mustache like he's lost in thought, until he's clearly not as he snarls at me. "Nothing would make me happier than to see you rot in hell."

It's over. Everything. I can barely form coherent thoughts. My mouth opens, for what, I don't know.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word." He leans in, the air around us tight and stifling. "The only reason you weren't dragged away in handcuffs for everyone to see and put behind bars right now is because my daughter begged me not to."

My head snaps up, barely able to comprehend what he's just said. Bella saved me. Begged him for my protection.

"I have absolutely no loyalty to you. I don't care if your name is smeared across the goddamn five o'clock news. But I will not do that to my daughter. My _underage_ daughter. I'm not about to ruin _her_ future and have this dirty affair follow _her_ around for the rest of her life. She told me she was a willing participant, something I still don't want to believe, but if it weren't for my only concern being _her_ , you would be on every sexual predator list from here to Florida."

He sits back, and I can see how red his neck is getting while he strains to keep his composure. He raises the hand resting on the table, pointing at me, his finger shaking with barely bottled anger. "Here's what you're going to do, you goddamn son of a bitch. You're going to resign. You're going to take yourself off the bicentennial festivities. You're going to stay away from my daughter, my wife, me. You're going to _never_ work with children again, or I will press charges. If I so much as see you talking to anyone my daughter knows, I will end you. I'd make you leave town but I'm keeping my eye on you. Do you understand?"

I nod, I choke. "I do."

He gets up from the table and walks to my side, leaning in. "I will also make sure your entire family knows, including your gullible fiancée, if you so much as breathe wrong, you sick piece of shit." The sound of his boots walking away from me doesn't ease my dread.

After the bell over the door jingles and his car has left the lot, I slump down in my seat, exhausted and overwhelmed. It didn't escape me he didn't say her name out loud, maybe in his mind I don't deserve to hear it.

My hands are shaking as I get up and fumble for my keys. In a daze I walk to the truck, getting in and driving. I stare out the window at the road ahead, not fully a plan in my head as to where I'm going.

It's not until I get to the cabin that I break down, falling to my knees and vomiting all over the rug Bella left.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Monday morning is awful.

There's a moment when I wake up and I forget all that's wrong, all the bad. I don't realize what a good feeling that is until it all comes crashing down around me like crumbling concrete.

I vomit in the shower, Tanya knocking on the door and asking if I'm all right, and maybe I should call in sick.

There's nothing I'd like better, but I have no choice.

I'm desperate to see Bella, to call her or something, but I know I can't. I don't know how I'm going to get a hold of her. Maybe Emmett can get a message to her, something. Maybe I can leave a cryptic note on her windshield. I can't imagine that she's not as desperate as I am.

I need to know that's she's okay. I need to know what happened, all of it. I need to know that she still loves me and our plans are moving ahead, though slightly skewed and disjointed.

Shaking my head to rid myself of my train of thought, I grab at my hair, realization that I'm about to resign bubbling up in my chest and making it tight. I'd welcome a heart attack right about now.

I haven't even begun to think about what I'm going to tell Tanya, my father. Tanya will be confused, but she'll support the 'decision'. My father on the other hand…

But this is nothing, small petty worries I should be fucking happy to have. I could be getting butt raped by a huge skinhead named Earl and living my life like a scumbag inside a rusty cage.

* * *

I decide to resign at the end of the day, and I know I'm pushing my luck. I had to see Bella, but she wasn't here today. I try to figure out what that means, if she's so upset she's made herself sick or if Mayor Swan made her stay home just in case.

But the time comes, the end of my career, and for an hour I'm in Principal Cope's office, explaining to her that I need to do this, change direction in my life. It's not the students, it's not the faculty, it's not the money blah blah blah all the while I'm listening to her telling me what bad timing this is. The bicentennial, the scout visit, state, the middle of the school year with no warning. She's just one more person on a long list of people I disappoint.

After cleaning out my desk and thankfully avoiding any interaction with my players, I spend the rest of the afternoon in the cabin, laying on sex-soaked sheets and avoiding reality. Part of me hopes maybe Bella will come, knowing in her heart that this is where we'll meet and sort everything out. But it's clear when it rolls around six that she's not. The sky is darkening, and I picture her stuck at home, grounded most likely. Unable to use her confiscated phone to reach me. Unable to use her car that's been taken from her for a while.

There's no way I can drive by her house, but I need to see her face. I need to see if it's swollen, tear-streaked, aching.

I go home instead, walking in just as Tanya is taking meat loaf out of the oven. She kisses me, my lips responding on instinct. "How was your Monday?" she asks as she usually does.

"I…"

She looks at me sweetly as she places the hot platter on the chipped counter. I need just a few more hours.

"Fine."

"Good. Mine was good too. Let's eat while it's hot." I sit robotically and she pours me some iced tea. Conversation is one-sided, Tanya supplying enough of it for both of us.

Like most of my food the past two days, dinner is tasteless. I hum and compliment her, nodding at her talk and giving the appropriate grunt when necessary. She doesn't seem to notice, caught up in whatever it is she's going on about.

I look at her as she's finishing up, really look at her. She's so… unaware and I don't know what to do with that. Just two days ago I was about to dash all her dreams and today I sit here, unsure of what's going to happen. I'm being so fucking passive I'm annoying myself.

But until I talk to Bella, there's nothing I can do about that.

* * *

Like the pussy I've become, I get up and dress like I'm going to work on Tuesday. I end up buying a pack of smokes for real and driving to one of our spots, the quiet end of the lake, sitting there with smoke swirling around my head.

After what seems like years of silence, the first call comes in, from Emmett. I contemplate not answering but there's no way he doesn't know. Besides, maybe he'll mention Bella or something.

Anything.

"Hey Emmett." I blow smoke out the window.

"Edward? What the fuck? Where are you?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I am.

"Why? What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just don't want to do it anymore." I take Bella's thoughts. "It was always Dad's dream, not mine."

"But _now_? You had to do this right now? You couldn't wait just one more week?" The heartbreak and disappointment in my brother's voice is evident.

"I'm sorry, Em."

"Not even a warning. What am I supposed to do?"

"You're ready. Someone will coach the game for the scout visit." I laugh, bitter and sullen. "Dad will do it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I… I haven't even told Tanya yet."

"What is going _on_ with you, bro?"

"Nothing. Just what I said. You leaving next year just made me realize it's time I did something for myself too." It sounds plausible. "Does Dad know?"

"Not that I know of, but he will. Everyone's talking about it."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, the guys are confused. Some are pissed. Even some of the teachers look like they don't know what hit them."

Bella. What about Bella.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're well liked. People are going to miss you." I hear shouting behind him and then Rosalie's voice.

I can't make out what she's saying but then I hear it. Bella.

Laughing. She's laughing.

"What's going on there?" I bark out.

"Where, here? I just told you, everyone's confused."

"No, right now. I hear… Rosalie."

"Oh, Newton's just being a prick, trying to tickle Bella."

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck.

"Rosalie is hitting him off of her." There's laughter in his voice and I want to hurl.

"Is he annoying her?" I swallow, knowing it's risky to show any fucks.

"Who, Bella? No, but he should watch her wrist."

Her wrist? "Her wrist? Why?"

Emmett shouts to Rosalie over the bell. "I gotta go, Edward. We'll finish this later."

"Wait! What happened to Bella's wrist?"

"Huh? Oh she sprained it at cheering practice Saturday. She's fine. Ended up in the ER."

I feel the blood drain from me, rushing from my head all the way down my body as pieces start to fall in place. Why she didn't show. Why she didn't call. Why her father answered her phone.

Emmett says goodbye and I mutter, hanging up the phone and staring out at the water. My hands punch the windshield, the steering wheel, and slam into my dumb, fucked up chest.

Oh God, oh God.

In my escalating panic waiting for her, thinking Newton was hurting her, I fucked it all up myself. It was _me_ that put Bella in that position. It was _me_ that brought all this crashing down.

But worse, she doesn't seem to be all that upset about it.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Laughing. Bella was laughing.

I feel sick, but then I take a few more drags, and I'm sure she's putting on an act, trying to make sure no one suspects she had anything to do with my departure.

She's a smart girl.

She's my girl. Still. I know it.

She's still protecting me.

I sit for hours, watching the ducks bob and dip under the water, planning out in my head what I'm going to say to Tanya when I get home. I'm sure she'll be okay, but honestly, when she asks what I plan to do now I have no answer.

I have no fucking idea.

There's no career. There's no plan. I envision myself working in the local hardware store or something, and I just don't see it. How do I explain that?

Fuck.

I need a strategy. I need to look like I had one all along. It's not like I have a teaching or coaching position waiting for me. My heart burns, my stomach gives me sharp pains. Tanya's going to be hurt that I didn't tell her I'd been planning this. I didn't let her in, I didn't communicate. I didn't fucking consider her, that's what she's going to say with that hurt look on her face that makes me feel like shit.

So what does Edward Cullen, fallen coach, fallen respected citizen do?

He fucking pussies out again.

Tanya doesn't seem to know anything when she gets home, her greeting as loving as usual. I sit on the couch, nursing a beer as she skips around the apartment. My father hasn't called, and my paranoia wonders if he's sitting there in the living room of my childhood home playing a game of chicken. Waiting for me to come and tell him just so he can have that moment he's been waiting for to make me feel like I'm not good enough.

I don't think I'm lucky enough to have escaped the town gossip that would reach his ears, but for some reason, the evening passes with no call. Tanya watches her wedding dress show, and I sit there, like stone, one arm cemented around her like a statue.

Tense. Waiting. Unsure.

Like the proverbial other shoe is going to drop from the tallest building in the world and crush me like a bug.

I'm in and out of thought, what am I going to do, when am I going to see Bella, when can this charade end. Maybe I'll leave immediately for California. Take a road trip, clear my head. Spend Christmas with Santa and his elves in the desert heat of Las Vegas.

But I can't plan anything until I hear from her. It's not until I see Tanya checking her email that it hits me.

I can email Bella. There's a slim chance her dad might be monitoring her email, but could he? My girl would be slick enough to not give him that password. I've never emailed her before, but I have her address.

When Tanya goes to bed I reach for the laptop and stare at a blank screen. What the fuck do I say?

'Hey there, wow, what a mindfuck, hope you're okay.'

That doesn't even cover it.

I start typing, deleting, typing again. What comes out isn't what I really want to say, but it's short and to the point.

 _Get a hold of me. Somehow._

My email stays silent, the Groupon and Best Buy spam emails sitting there, looking at me.

And then it dings that incoming email sound and her name appears on the top of my email list.

Bellatio33

 _I'm fine._

My stomach bottoms out and my ears pulse with horror. That's it. That's all she's got to say.

 _Call me._ I type, unwilling to believe she's not wanting to.

 _I can't right now. I'll talk to you soon._

My next email telling her to try hard goes unanswered for the forty-six minutes I wait and I don't know what to think. Maybe her dad is there? She had to sneak to use her confiscated computer? She wants no paper trail?

I slam the cover of the laptop down and place it on the coffee table, wrapping my arms around my aching stomach while my mind comes up with a thousand scenarios that don't feel dreadful.

* * *

I still don't tell Tanya. I dress for work, disbelieving I'm going to get away with this for another day, the small nagging in the back of my mind reminding me there's no way my luck isn't going to run out. It'll only be worse if she finds out on her own, I know, but it doesn't make me man up.

Smoking, driving, not eating, that's what I do with my day. The huge bicentennial festivities start in two days, and I'll be noticeably absent. The town is getting ready, decorating with the red, white, and blue banners, the flags on the streetlights celebrating the birth of our town, the window paintings of Uncle Sam and the American bald eagle the Cub Scouts did on every storefront.

My truck makes a pathetic drive-by past the football field, fresh white lines already in place on the field and the grandstands decked out in the school colors of gold and red.

* * *

On the third day of my fall from grace I realize I can't be seen driving around town in my truck without being noticed, so I rent a cheap car a town over and stow my truck at the cabin when I'm circling the small area where everyone I know lives.

I feel like a jerk, a dirty criminal, an outcast. But now at least I'm an invisible one in a cheap, brown sedan.

I'm chaotic, smoking too much, and obsessing too much because I still haven't heard from Bella. The laughter I heard over the phone when I talked to Emmett is seared on my brain; I decipher it a million ways.

Maybe there was a hint of sadness in that laugh. A stiffness that only I could pick on as being forced. I'm sure it's what I thought; she's putting on an act. Brave in the front of missing me.

At home, I'm listening to moody, depressing music, some songs that played while Bella and I were in her room looping over and over again and Tanya questions my choices. I see it in her eyes; she thinks it's her, the wedding, the pressure. She internalizes it and makes herself the one to blame.

The phone rings and I tell her not to answer it, distracting her with my sawdust-filled mouth making an obligatory peck on hers. She's happy to comply, her hands ghosting over my back as she tries to deepen the kiss, not realizing I'm so not there with her.

I'm in a pink bedroom. I'm in the back of my pick up. I'm in Bella.

* * *

My dreams are a mix of angel wings on a silky, teenage back crossed with sledgehammers smashing me to bits.

I wake up sweating, gasping for air, checking my phone and then the laptop in a vicious cycle every three hours. Tanya and the dog sleep peacefully next to me, and I stare at them, thinking, planning, spinning.

I'm up early Thursday so I make Tanya the one thing I know how to make, scrambled eggs with cheese. She's so surprised and thankful as she sits on the stool at the counter it makes me feel even worse. I should've just not done it.

"So tomorrow's the big game! You must be excited." She munches on her toast, not saying a word at the black bottom that's leaving burnt crumbs on her sweater.

I swallow coffee so I don't have to answer right away, and then frown as I put my mug down. Just fucking tell her. Get it over with. "Yup."

"I forgot to tell you, your father called me at work, saying he was having trouble getting a hold of you." I freeze, wondering if she's giving me an opportunity to tell her something she already knows. "I take it he didn't go to practice the last few days?"

I have no idea if he did or didn't. "No, uh, no."

"I'm surprised. I mean, this scout visit is all he's been talking about. He's dying for Emmett to go to U of O."

"Emmett doesn't want to go there. The scout from Ole Miss is coming, we invited him two weeks ago."

Tanya looks at me wide-eyed. "Your father doesn't know, I take it?"

Bingo. It all falls into place. "No, that's why I've been avoiding him. Do me a favor and if he calls again, make an excuse. I'm busy with the obstacle course or something."

"Of course." We talk about Emmett for a minute, and I can tell she's confused why I didn't confide in her. If she only knew. She puts her dish in the sink, telling me I'm going to be late if I don't hustle with a kiss on the cheek.

I stand at the kitchen counter.

I stand for a long time. One spot, no movement, just the laptop open next to me with nothing new coming from it.

Once I finally leave the house, I trade the pick up for the crime mobile and drive by the school, hoping for a glance at Bella. I'm not sure why she'd be walking around outside, but just in case, I stay for about an hour, watching.

Then I take my pity party to her street.

I sit two houses down on the opposite side like I did last time, smoking and watching. Renee comes and goes, Mayor Swan arrives home, and then…

Bella comes home. With Newton.

Draped over her like a goddamn ape. Which she doesn't seem to mind as she smiles at him and they enter her house, shutting the door and shutting me out.

That night, I don't go home.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I wake up to seven missed calls. My heart leaps.

Two my father, five Tanya.

My heart plummets. And my ulcer soars.

I'm a prick, plain and simple, once again. She's probably calling hospitals. I've never stayed out all night. I've had 'late meetings' and I've snuck out when she's been deep asleep, but this is blatantly me not coming home without a word. She has to know by now.

I find I don't care much. I check my email from my phone and have nothing except junk.

Today's the day. Homecoming, the scouts, Bella perched on the back of a pickup truck decked out in the dress I helped her pick out.

Checking the fridge I see I have one beer and one frozen Hot Pocket. I snap the cap off the beer and go back to bed.

Propping my head up on Bella's pillow, I suck from the bottle and lay there, my thoughts erratic and unable to get in line. The window shows a beautiful fall day, the game tonight should be perfect.

I snort loudly to the empty, dank room and sip some more. My eyes drift closed, and I try to not think. To not wallow. To not obsess.

Success is mine for a bit, while I'm concentrating on not forming thoughts, but red lips and dramatic eyes swim in and out of my vision, trails of love and sex and beauty following her face like the flowy fabric Tanya picked out to hang from the chandeliers.

She was always beautiful. I just didn't see it at first.

Summer football camp, she volunteered for school credit to be my assistant for the sweaty month of August, coaching 8-10 year old boys how to throw, catch, tackle.

Memories of her throaty voice encouraging them on fill my head, the old me of then thinking nothing of the young girl trying to make her college applications plump.

She was funny, sarcastic, dry... older in mind than the kids I taught. Her ponytail would stick to her neck, the little hairs curling at the dampness as she threw herself into playing with these kids. I remember noticing that - but not. It's clear now, but then, I didn't really see it.

The kids adored her. There was something about her; she could make the shyest kid the loudest and the most obnoxious the one to follow intently.

My eyes open, looking out at the blue sky through the window in front of me, crisp and clear weather. Football weather, and I'm back on that field from just a few months ago.

She reminded me of why I didn't despise doing what I do. Did. The joy, the freshness, the enthusiasm she instilled in those kids was like new air.

She instilled it in me too.

It started where I'd wake up each morning, excited to spend time with her. It still wasn't sexual, wasn't love, it was just not what I was used to, wasn't something someone else planned for me.

It was mine. It was a few hours a day where I didn't think. I just was.

I'd joke and laugh with her, she was easy to talk to, easy to be with because there was no pressure. She didn't want anything from me. Didn't expect anything from me.

My dick gets hard, remembering the day it changed.

There was an injury, blood and grass on skin. I patched her up, my hands washing the dirt and grime from her knee. I can't remember what she said, but I'll never forget the look she gave me when I reached my hand out to help her up.

It was a look I hadn't gotten in years. It was lust, desire, it was someone _seeing_ me.

Not as a coach or as the high school sweetheart. Not part of the 'perfect couple'. I laugh bitterly, thinking about 'the perfect couple'.

Being with Bella isn't the first time the desire to leave Tanya had crossed my mind, I'd contemplated it a few times, planned it. But how could I when she stayed by my side when I tore my ACL, and how could I after her mother died?

It was always bad timing, always a sense of obligation. And then it just seemed like too much work _not_ to move forward with her. I settled. Because everyone assumed we would and I had no better reason.

My beer is empty, but I still don't want the Hot Pocket. My hand reaches into my boxers and I'm sliding it up and down my hardness, enjoying memory lane, even though it's ripping apart my insides.

I resisted Bella, I truly did. Her touch would be soft, barely there, but would leave her vanilla scent. The hooded gaze of her eyes would land on me and I'd look away, walk across the field, anything but look back.

But then one day, I did.

And so we looked. And so we smiled. And so we tiptoed.

Packing up my pickup side by side felt the shift one day. It's that simple. She looked that look and her ruby lips smiled. I have no memory of leaning in, no memory of a thought process. All I know was one minute we were loading footballs and the next I was holding her with our lips pressed together and our bodies tight.

She was excitement, she was life, she was… different. I hadn't felt that way in a long time. Like I was free to do what I wanted and act on impulses, no matter how wrong.

That didn't seem to matter, the wrongness.

I roll over and smash my face into the pillow. Like a drug addict, I ache for the wrongness that feels right.

* * *

The beer is now a bottle of Jack I went to the store to buy, driving the beat up sedan while Hot Pocket burned my tongue. I drink it straight from the opening, sitting on the floor, staring at the bed.

My phone is propped up between my feet, the black screen staring back at me. I can almost see my reflection; almost see the pathetic person that has taken over.

I tilt the bottle up, taking a healthy swig for an eleven am on a Friday.

A Friday I'm not invited to. Not allowed to be in.

I drive to the school, the quiet grounds betraying the excitement I know lies within. There's a pep rally today, a last push to encourage us to win win WIN.

Lighting a cigarette, I inhale deeply and shake my head. There is no us. There's only me and them, and I don't count.

I try not to think that I might not count to Bella anymore either.

Squinting against the smoke I let billow out around the closed car, I check the time and realize Bella will be leaving chemistry on her way to lunch in about five minutes. I didn't know I was planning on going in there, but here I am, slinking around the corner and opening the door on the far side of the gym where the chem labs are.

Standing in the stairwell that doesn't get used much, I forget every rule and text her.

 _I'm in stairwell C_

The bell rings and I stand behind the stairs that go up. Feet clamor above me, excited voices and shouts of laughter. None of them are hers. I rub my face and lean my head back against the cold beige tile.

"Edward?" I hear softly, timidly, long after all the other voices have left.

My eyes open and she's there, and I have to swallow thickly when I see she's in her cheer uniform. School spirit and all that. It should deter me, remind me, but it doesn't.

I pull her to me, fingering the brace around her wrist, and she comes, falling into me and fitting perfectly like she always has. My nose buries in her hair, inhaling her scent while my hands grab fistfuls of it.

I can't get enough, it's not enough.

I'm kissing her, and she's kissing me back. I flip us, pressing her against the wall and trying to satiate myself. My lips are hungry, seeking all the skin. She makes the most perfect sounds, gruff and achy as her leg winds around mine, pulling me tighter against her.

"What are you doing here?"

Lips. Give me your lips. Stop talking. "You. I had to see you. I had to know..."

My arms circle her so that she's lifted against the wall and one hand moves under her skirt.

"Oh God," she says and my ears soak it all in.

"Let's go, Bella, let's leave now. Today. Fuck homecoming, you don't even care."

My mouth falls back on hers but then there's pushing. Her hands against me. Traitorous.

"Wha...?" I can barely breathe.

"No, Edward," her voice sounds pained. "Just no."

I step back and really look at her. She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly. In a very bad way.

Her head is shaking, her hands splayed out. "It's over."

"What's over? The pep rally?" I've never been so confused.

She swallows. "You. Me."

"What about us?"

Her heavy eyes blink, her lips purse. "There is no us."

"Your father, Bella," I protest. "Fuck him, you're going to California at Easter. I need a couple of days but I'll go first, I'll wait for you, he doesn't have to know."

"I'm leaving in a week."

Blinking. "Why?"

She lowers her hands, her fingers toying with the bottom of her skirt. My mind wonders if she's naked under there for me. "My father wants me away from here. Away from you."

"Okay, so we go in a week."

"No, Edward. I want this too. I want to go alone."

I don't get it. "Of course you're going alone, why would they go with you?"

"Edward. I'm going without _you_."

Black and red and spots fill my eyes. My head. Making my ears feel full. I take another step back, but my hand betrays me, reaching towards her but unable to touch, so it falls to my side.

"Why are you doing this?"

She's strong, stoic. And it kills me.

"What did you think, Edward? That you'd come to California, open that bar, and we'd what, play house?"

Her words sting and slap my face.

"You were a fun distraction. And I thank you for that."

No. This is just… no.

"What about Mike?" My lips turn into a snarl.

"What about him? You think I'm going to get tied down to my high school boyfriend? Please." The dig hurts.

I stare her down, her words echoing loud in my head. "Fuck you, Bella."

"No, fuck you, Edward." She charges at me, fingers poking me and nails biting. "Don't you dare put this on me. You sit there, engaged, not doing anything about it. You expected me to be your plaything on the side because you were too big of a pussy to make a decision for yourself. Well I deserved more. I _do_ deserve more. And I'm going to get far away from here and get what I deserve. I can't wait to get the fuck away from you. Waiting a week is torture. I can't leave you soon enough."

My mind starts racing, desperate to get her to admit all she's saying is a lie. "You love me."

"Love you? Have I ever told you that? What am I studying to become, Edward? Hmm?" I stare at her, and I almost believe her. Almost. Until I see the ruby lips tremble the slightest bit.

My feet move forward and she presses herself against the wall. "Let me fix it. I'm fixing it, all of it." My hand brushes the side of her face and she leans in the tiniest bit. "I fucking love you, Bella. I will always love you." She closes her eyes tight, fighting me, fighting us. "I don't care if you've never said it. I know."

She's shaking her head, trying to deny. "What am I going to do with you?" she whispers, pained.

I taste tears when I taste her lips, and even though they stay still she doesn't stop me. It's all the encouragement I need and I push against her again, her body melting the tiniest bit as my mouth travels to her vanilla neck. There's a small sob and then "I love you" whispered against my cheek, almost like a dream it's so soft. Angel kiss against my skin and I soar.

Then words come clearer, stronger. But all wrong.

"I said no!" she shouts, and those hands are back on my chest, pushing with all her might. "I'm leaving and I don't want you with me, I don't want you to follow me, I don't want you to call me. My father is right - you're no good for me. And I'm no good for you. You need to fix your life and I need to start mine." She straightens her shoulders and adjusts her sweater.

The eyes that made me love her are suddenly dead. "Thanks for the good time."

I'm frozen, stabbed through the heart and gut. Bleeding entrails on the floor. She takes my life as she storms away from me, head high.

I imagine I see the slightest quiver as she reaches the door, a slight hesitation before she's gone from my sight, but I don't know what I can trust.

Bella always did want to be an actress, after all.

* * *

I don't go back to the cabin. I sit outside her house, in the back, hidden by trees. I watch the movement from the kitchen, bodies fluttering about probably trying to eat quickly before the big event.

My heart aches to see her, in that dress I unzipped, but my whiskey soaked brain curses her and everything she is. Everything.

Cause she's everything.

I don't drive by the game; I can see it all behind my drunken eyelids. Cheering. The pickup circling with their smiling queen in back, the poor shmuck that doesn't know she's really the _ice_ queen sitting by his side, ready to play the big game and hoping to get laid.

My mind plays tricks, convincing me she hates me, then no, no, really, she's being forced to go, to say these things. There's no way she doesn't see us like I do.

The overwhelming need to smell her takes over, and I use the key. Walking through the house without sneaking cause they're gone. Gone to the place. The thing.

I wonder quickly if Emmett is doing well, if he's performing his heart out. I wonder what everyone is thinking as they don't see me out there coaching. I wonder if Tanya's there, confused. Guess she's finding out right about now, I shrug to no one but my own thoughts.

The first thing I see when I get to her room is a couple of boxes. I kick one, sending it about a foot away. Her bed is made and I'm disappointed 'cause now I can't lay on her sheets. I contemplate turning down the bed and crawling in, but move instead to sit on the side.

The bounce brings memories, and I shove my hands into my hair, pulling.

It was all an act. She used me, convinced me we were more. I almost fucking gave up everything for her. I did give up everything for her. There's no way I can recover any semblance of my life at this point.

I'm pretty sure I have an ex-fiancée who hates me. A family that has disowned me and a town that will probably find out I'm a scumbag.

All for some teenage pussy.

But God, how much do I love the girl that pussy belongs to. Did. Did love. It's over now. It's all in the past. Past tense, past life, past past past.

It's when I'm about to go that I see it, tucked under her pillow. My heart picks up double time as I slide something plastic out from under her vanilla cloud.

It's all I need to erase the past four hours of doubt.

My nametag from our summer football camp. Stolen and tucked safely under where she lays her head each night.

Bella loves me. She's being forced to go, I knew it.

I push it back where I found it and race for the stairs.

I go back to my log in the woods and wait.

I watch her parents arrive home, lights being turned on.

I watch my angel come in hours later and then watch as the lights slowly turn off one by one as they go to their beds.

I light a cigarette and take a few drags, waiting, waiting. It's when I light another that I move.

Creeping onto the back stairs, I make sure I hear no sound, and push the lit cigarette into the cracks between the dry brittle logs on the porch.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The fire licks and flames, as I sit on my log, watching as it grows and grows.

Waiting for the right moment…

I dash into the house, already unlocked by the key, screaming and shouting.

Running up the stairs two at a time as I'm yelling, 'GET OUT GET OUT'.

Mayor Swan meets me at the landing, disoriented and sleep-woken, pajama pants and disheveled hair.

"What?" he barks, looking ready to kill me. "Edward-"

"Fire! Fire! Get out!" I say, and stand there waiting for direction. I see him glance towards his bedroom, confusion all over his face.

Orange lights the outside windows, flickering and burning. His head moves left, right, left.

"Get Bella!" he shouts, and that's what I wanted, so I dash towards the room I know so well.

She's lying in her bed, looking at her phone, startled by my sudden appearance and takes her ear buds out.

"Bella! Fire! We have to go!" She sits up, confused, but stands at my command.

I notice the feel of her skin against my fingertips as I lead her into the hallway, her startled protests trailing behind us lost as I breathe her in.

Vanilla and smoke.

My hand grabs her arm and we go down, down, down the stairs as Mayor Swan shouts above us.

"Get her out!"

And it's the best thing I've ever heard.

I pull her with me, through the room opposite the fire she is horrified at, and in her pajama pants and little shirt she takes a lungful of smoke, looking panicked.

She lets me lead her out, onto the dewy grass while she's coughing, saying words and making gurgled sounds.

On the lawn, we watch the orange-soaked trees behind her house and she falls into me. "What's happening?"

I say nothing, just hold her to me as I dial 911 and she bows over, crying about something she doesn't get.

Minutes. Minutes pass as we stare at the house.

"Mom! Dad!" she shouts, recognition dawning. I hold her to me, her hands grasping me, something I never thought I'd feel again.

So perfect.

Need. She needs me.

The smoke gets thicker and I get scared, worried that I made more than what I intended until the sirens come in the distance.

Mayor Swan appears through the gray smoke curtain, a body held in his arms like a saving grace.

 _I never wanted to kill anyone._

Bella moves in my arms, twisting and wanting to get to them but I hold her strong.

Relief comes when Mayor Swan directs me to hold Bella back. Better than I hoped for.

He brings Bella's mother out onto the lawn and is frantic, hovering over her as he lays her in the grass. He looks around, disoriented, and then I hear it.

"Edward, get Bella away, get her safe!"

I pull her away at his direction, her arms tight around me as we watch her mother lying on the lawn.

"Get her away!" He screams, making hand movements that make me pull her back further. He looks frantic, but starts to lower his face to Renee's, about to start mouth-to-mouth.

"Mom!" she yells, and I hold on tight, her hands clutching the shirt I set fire to her house in. She grasps, she chokes, she is a mess, and my arms fold around her, grateful she's back in them.

She tries to get away again and Mayor Swan pushes her back, back into my arms, away from the destruction ravaging their home.

I hold her waist until she relents, clutching me and holding me and leaning on me. The sirens are here and men run around, lugging hoses and wearing the gear you see on TV.

People hover over Renee, and Mayor Swan is there, one hand pressed to his mouth as he watches them work over her.

The ambulance arrives and they lay Renee on the gurney, oxygen mask tight over her face as the firemen shoot their water and shout orders.

A fireman talks to Mayor Swan and he nods, then looks at me.

They want to take Renee to the hospital while the fire still burns, still wrecks the Swan household and he tells me.

"Take her, Edward. Take her to the hospital. I'll go with her mother. Just... take her."

It's permission.

I can see the fire dying under their supervision and hustle Bella, still yelling, towards the sedan. She reaches out again towards her parents, and her father assures her to go as they load Renee onto the ambulance.

It's chaos, but I've got her. Back with me.

We sit in the car she hasn't noticed, her sobs loud as we watch the ambulance fire up and turn the lights and sirens on.

"Oh my God, Edward, what happened?"

 _You can't possibly leave in a week now._ I make soothing sounds at her and then the best thing.

Her hand comes out and grips mine, strong and hard and everything.

We drive like that, to the hospital, following the white van that holds her mother.

She clings to me, afraid to let go and I hold her, my arm around her shaking shoulders as I drive behind the lights and the scary.

With permission.

* * *

I keep my arm around Bella's shoulders as I lead her into the emergency room behind the gurney where her mother is still attached to an oxygen tank. Mr. Swan looks at my hand on her shoulder but says nothing, more concerned about his wife at the moment.

Bella's settled some, her crying now is soundless. That's good for her.

But for me, it's bad bad. I've had the fire and the drive to sober up and realize just what the fuck I've done. I'm stone still, quiet, as we stand near the hard plastic chairs watching Bella's parents get ushered beyond the double doors where all the trauma is.

My thumb traces patterns against her and I realize she's shivering. I run out to the car and grab my sweatshirt, placing it over her body. She grasps the material and closes her eyes slightly as the warmth seeps into her skin.

I want to think I see her smell it, but I couldn't have. She's probably wiping her nose.

"Do you want some coffee?" I ask quietly, feeling useless, and she shakes her head and then she looks at me. Big brown eyes filled with tears. Tears I put there.

"What happened?"

Here it is. I have to come up with a story. I hadn't thought that far ahead.

"I… I was driving home and I saw a blaze through the trees so I cut over to your street and it was your house."

My stomach lurches, the blurred, alcohol-laced memory of sticking a lit cigarette into a very dry pile of wood sends me bolting to the men's room where I promptly puke my guts up.

Whiskey and half-eaten Hot Pocket leave my body, splashing into the toilet I barely made it to.

My forehead is clammy, my hands sweaty, and I think I'm about to cry, something I haven't done since the time I tore my ACL.

"Edward?" I hear meekly through the door. "Are you okay?"

I sit on the tile which smells strong like disinfectant and put my head in my hands. "I'm fine." I barely manage to yell back because my girl is worried about me. Me of all people. The one that just destroyed her house.

"Can you come out, please?" Her voice is tiny, pleading, so I splash water on my face and open the door. She's standing there, so small in my sweatshirt, scared and shaking like a newborn deer.

I did this. I did this to her.

I turn and run back to the toilet, throwing up my shame.

* * *

About ten minutes later, I've gotten myself together so I sit with Bella in a scrub shirt, my t-shirt having been splattered with puke.

Mayor Swan comes through the double doors and takes Bella into his arms. "She's okay," he croons into her hair, pressed tight against his chest. "I'll take you back to see her in a minute."

He looks at me above her head. I hold my breath. "Thank you, Edward."

It's three words but it's enough to make my throat fill with bile. I thought this was what I wanted, for him to see me as someone worthy of his daughter. As someone worthy of not being a pariah.

Town hero resurrected.

But I'm so not worthy of anything.

I just nod my head and stand, unsure of what to do.

The police have arrived, and behind them, I'm horrified to see my father and mother. But then I'm destroyed when I see Tanya, walking slowly, pain and confusion and hurt all over her tear streaked face.

I can't even fathom why they're here as my head swims, flooded with dread as I stand face to face with my fiancée. I haven't been home in two days. I haven't called her or picked up when she called me. I've disappeared, only to show up in the hospital after 'saving' a family from a burning house.

I smell like puke and smoke and vanilla and whiskey.

She hugs me anyway.

"Edward…" I can see she's not sure where to start or what to say.

"I'm sorry." For so much. It's such a pathetic apology, coming from an equally pathetic human being.

We're interrupted from saying anything further, the police asking me to come with them to give a statement. My veins run cold but they tell me it's procedure, since I was first on the scene and made the 911 call.

I look at Bella, still held tight in her father's arms, but she's not looking at him. She's not looking at me.

She's looking at Tanya, and the hands that are circling my waist. Her eyes flash to mine and her pale, pale lips give nothing away as they stay in a straight line before looking back to Tanya.

The police take me to a waiting patrol car and I start to speak. "I have my car..." and then like a thousand bullets hitting me at once I realize I have the sedan. No one can know I have the sedan.

But Bella knows. Bella was just in it, but I don't know if she even took note of it in her state.

"Do you want to follow us?" The police officer asks.

Tanya, still wrapped around my waist, looks around the lot. "No," I say quickly, "I'm still a bit shaky. I'll go with you."

My father comes out then and shoots me an angry glare but tells Tanya he'll take her, and they'll follow us to the station. I can't worry about him right now as I look back at Bella in her father's arms through the glass door, one last time.

She's looking at me, sad eyes and sad face but the sweetest little smile begins to form. I see her fingers move, and it takes me a moment to realize she's giving me a wave.

I begin to give a little wave back but suddenly, she's running towards the doors and then she's out of them and putting her arms around my neck.

Her lips press to my cheek, all chaste but with searing heat only I can feel, before she turns back to the waiting stance of her father who says nothing.

Despite my churning stomach, my smoke-injured heart flips.

* * *

I'm detailing the events of the evening to an officer at his desk, making up a timeline and trying to make sure I recount it exactly the same way each time.

 _I was driving by on my way home, on the street behind Bel - the mayor's house, and I saw the trees glowing so I drove to their street and saw the back of the house in a blaze._

 _I ran to the backyard to see if it was in the yard or the actual house and when I saw it was the house I ran inside._

 _No, officer. The door was unlocked._

 _I then ran upstairs where I figured they were asleep and started yelling._

 _No, I didn't get hurt running past the fire._

 _Yes, Mayor Swan came out and told me to get... his daughter._

 _No, I didn't call 911 then._

 _I got... his daughter out of the house._

 _The front door._

 _Yes, sir._

 _I called 911 then, and then Mayor Swan came out with his wife in his arms._

 _That's it._

 _No, I don't remember seeing anyone._

 _No, I don't remember passing any cars._

 _No, I didn't hear anything._

And then it gets tricky.

 _I was driving home._

 _No, I wasn't at the game._

 _I'm not the coach anymore._

 _No, I didn't go._

 _I was at a cabin my father owns._

 _Yes, I sometimes drive that way, there's less congestion._

 _I realize the time of night, it was habit._

 _Why is that relevant?_

 _I resigned._

 _I go there sometimes. My fiancée and I have been having problems._

 _Nothing serious, no._

 _Like I said, habit._

 _Yes, it's a good thing I did._

I see Mayor Swan when he walks in with Bella, as he moves to where my parents and Tanya are sitting. My mother hugs Bella, and I overhear Mayor Swan saying something about Bella not wanting to go to Rosalie's and insisting on coming here. I don't know why they're here. Why they're not with Renee. How long have I been here?

I wonder if she's here for me. Bold now that her father has seen our interaction and isn't angry.

My mother pulls Bella to sit while Mayor Swan and my father talk to another officer.

Bella's eyes meet mine and she shifts, moving to the seat on the other side of my mother, away from Tanya. I sink low in my chair, guilty.

The officer tells me he's done for now but to not leave just yet, wanting to dot the i's and cross the t's. I want to go to Bella, but Tanya is looking at me with those big sad eyes and two days worth of questions flying around her brain that I just can't deal with right now. I ask the officer if there's a side door where I can go out for a smoke, and he points towards the back hallway.

I can feel him judging me, wondering why I'm not joining my family after such a scary event. Or it's all in my head. I have no fucking clue.

Once outside I stick the cigarette in my mouth but don't light it, my stomach gurgling again and threatening to explode with the mere thought of lighting up. The tools of my horrific crime.

I could've killed them all. I could've killed _her_. My heart pounds and my lungs close up, phantom smoke crushing my insides and burning through my body like the Swan house.

They thought I was scum before. They have no idea.

The door clicks open softly behind me, and I tense. My body waiting for confirmation that it's Bella, the love of my life, or someone coming to tell me my strange days have ended.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Edward."

I turn slowly, scared that if I rush too fast the breeze my body creates will swish her away like fog.

She's standing near the door, my sweatshirt still held tightly around her body. She's not shaking anymore. "Why were you driving past my house? You and I both know that's not the way from the cabin."

I swallow, the bile that's been present since the hospital still burning my throat. "It's not."

"So what were you doing? Watching me?"

I say nothing.

"Whose car was that?"

"You shouldn't be out here. Your father..."

"My father is busy and quite frankly doesn't seem to care about 'us' at the moment."

Us.

"I... wanted to see you. In your dress."

"I'd been home for hours."

"I couldn't bring myself to leave." She stares at me, her gears moving inside her head, ticking and clicking. I try to distract. "You were beautiful tonight." In my head, she was.

Then she says something I don't expect, her words making all the guilt inside me bubble and grow.

"I'm so grateful you were there. You saved my mother. You rushed in and warned us, even though you know my father despises you."

Wait.

"Your father does, but you... don't?" Flashes of the school stairwell, her biting words and sneers.

Her head shakes slowly as she stares at the cement. "I don't."

Her words melt through me, wave upon wave of relief.

Despite my heinous actions, the end result is divine.

Her eyes are bright again. Her lips have returned to their cherry, ruby stain. I want to kiss her until we both run out of oxygen.

We're interrupted by the officer that questioned me, asking me to come back in to clarify a few final details.

I'm soaring, floating on air as we walk back in until my return with Bella is noticed by the entire party waiting inside. Four sets of eyes fall on us, as Bella slinks back to her father's side and I move to the officer's desk.

Before I can sit, he tells me to follow him. Confused, I look back over my shoulder and see Mayor Swan talking to a man in a suit. His eyes bore holes in me as he crosses his arms and listens, off to the side of everyone else.

I'm led to an interrogation room.

They just want to spare Bella and her father from details, I'm sure. They've had a rough night. No need to have them hear it all again.

The itchy, sweaty heat ripping through my body tells me otherwise.

I sit when directed, and the man in the suit comes in. Introduces himself as a detective. Offers me water. Coffee. My knee is shaking under the table and I put a hand on it to stop it.

"Mr. Cullen, I just want to go over a few details with you."

"Certainly." I'm surprised my voice is smooth, calm.

He goes over the basics I already relayed to the officer, nodding his head while looking at a file. "Mr. Cullen, you stepped outside to smoke before. I can get an ashtray in here for you."

"I'm good."

"Would you say you're a heavy smoker?"

"No."

"But you do carry them on you?"

"Sometimes."

"Okay." He looks back down at the papers in front of him. Making me wait, sweat.

"What brand do you smoke, Mr. Cullen?"

Alarm bells, warning signs, flashing lights. "Uh, it depends."

"Mmm hmm." He nods. "What are you carrying right now?"

I could lie. Say they're in the car. But the pack is prominent in the breast pocket of the scrub shirt. "Uh, I think they're Marlboro Lights."

"You're not sure?"

"I don't always have them. I change."

He hums. "You sure I can't get you an ashtray?" He smiles.

"I'm fine." My voice cracks slightly as my head pounds. My fingers tense under the table, grabbing at the hole in my jeans, rubbing the skin of my knee. Scratching. Clawing.

"No one in the Swan household smokes." His hands come out in front of him, his fingers crossing together as he taps his thumbs on the file.

"I wouldn't know." Bella smokes. Bella is my reason for smoking in the first place.

"Of course not. You don't know them very well, I suppose?"

I think I just broke skin with my fingernail. "Not really."

"It was a good thing you were there tonight."

"I was driving by."

"Yes, you've said. Mrs. Swan is very lucky."

Visions of her in her husband's arms. On the lawn, not moving. On the gurney, oxygen strapped to her face. Bella scratching and screaming while I held her back. I caused all of that. Me. I am disgusting.

I know the exact moment my face turns pale white, all the blood rushing to the hole I just picked in my knee.

On instinct, I raise my fingers up only to look and see blood.

"Are you okay, Mr. Cullen?"

"No."

"Just a few more questions," he says like I said nothing.

No.

"Would you know anything about a pile of-" He picks up the folder like he doesn't have it all memorized. "Marlboro Lights at the back of the yard?"

I swallow. "No."

"Okay. There was also one or two leading to the back porch. You wouldn't know anything about that either?"

"No." I know I should ask for a lawyer, but if I say anything but no I'm going to puke again, all over this table.

"Do you know how fires work, Mr. Cullen?"

I shake my head.

"It spreads up and out." He raises his hands. "Like a 'V'. It let's us determine the point of origin."

I rub the blood between my fingers.

"The Swan fire started on the back porch. The wood pile, specifically. Usually it takes a bit more time to determine the cause or accelerant of a fire."

I say nothing. I look at nothing. I am nothing. I feel myself swaying in my seat.

"But when you have a cigarette butt, matching those on the lawn, well it makes our job easy. You can pretty much figure out where I'm going with this, can't you, Mr. Cullen?"

My eyes cross and I see nothing.

* * *

I'm revived; the man in the suit fanning me with that fucking folder while another officer holds a cup of water up to my face.

"You all right there?" Suit man asks.

I nod my head, afraid to speak.

"Mr. Cullen, do you want an attorney present?"

I look at him, his hard face betraying the kindness he thinks he's giving me.

"I'm being arrested." A statement. No question.

"Yes."

And suddenly, I feel… relief. I can't explain it, do it justice. It just feels like everything I've been trying to avoid - the lies, the deception, the stress of maintaining all of this - is suddenly gone. A weight's been lifted.

It's over.

"I don't want a lawyer."

"By law, I have to tell you that you have the right to an attorney."

"I don't care."

And it's easy to say 'cause I don't.

We proceed with my confession, a three page horror novel detailing everything about the fire, the past week, the past two months. As it comes out of me, I realize something that hurts but couldn't be truer.

I deserve this. All of this. Jail, public shame. It's the first thing I've done right in months. The feeling is good, so good, like I'm being washed clean. I wait for the ulcer to kick in and it never does. The churning and burning doesn't appear.

We're in there for two hours, all the time I just speak, relay all the info. I don't think about Bella, or Tanya, or my father. It's the first time in a long time I'm doing what I'm supposed to. What _Edward_ wants to do.

In a funny way, it's the first time I've been in control of my own life in years.

* * *

I'm taken out of the interrogation room in handcuffs, on my way to processing where I'll spend the night in a holding cell until I can make bail. I don't tell them I plan on making sure no one pays it. Hell, I'm not sure anyone would anyway.

The calm that's fallen over me is snatched away when I see they're all still there.

My father, looking like he expected nothing else.

My mother, tear-streaked and holding onto him.

Oh God, Tanya, doubled over, clutching her stomach. I swallow thickly as she looks up, her face red and puffy and her eyes nearly slits from over-crying. My stomach bottoms out as the look she gives me is pure loathing. There is no sad smile, no encouraging nod. There's nothing but all the things I've killed flowing out of her, crawling on her skin like the disease I've brought. She knows it all.

And then suddenly, Bella's there, rushing towards me, but not in the way I dream of every night. Of arms outstretched and smiles on ruby lips.

There are fingernails and scratching and punching and slapping.

"You bastard! I hate you! I hate you! How could you do this? You said you loved me! _Loved_ me! I fucking _hate_ you!" She's wailing and pounding her fists into me. No one is stopping her, but I don't deserve any help.

Her father stands behind, letting her take it all out on me.

Her face is red and angry, her tears plentiful and leaving streaks on her pretty cheeks. "I hate you!" she screams again with all her might, making her voice hoarse, making me flinch.

'Cause now I know she really means it.

Her father pulls her off finally, and the officers take me away.

As I get hustled farther down the hallway, I continue to hear it all.

Brutal, agonizing sobs, punctuated with yelling and the painful way she's cursing the day she ever met me.

And I know.

All the memories, all the laughs and the talk of love and the euphoric sounds of our fucking are gone.

These trailing, vengeful words of hate will haunt me forever.

* * *

I'm arraigned on Tuesday morning.

I'm standing in front of a judge pleading guilty, no contest.

There's no family in the courtroom standing behind me except Emmett.

On Thursday, I accept a plea bargain, a maximum sentence of thirty years for arson reduced to the minimum of five, granted I do my time out of state, and never, under any circumstances try to contact the Swan family during this time, or I'll have to serve out the maximum sentence. They tell me after that I'll more than likely have a restraining order put against me.

I find out later that Mayor Swan greased as many palms as he could to get me shipped far, far away.

Fishkill Correctional Facility in Beacon, New York, here I come.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

My first letters, the first form of communication from anyone outside, arrive three months after the start of my incarceration.

* * *

 _Hey Bro,_

 _How are they treating you there in the slammer? Has anyone made you their bitch yet? I'm sorry this is the first time I've written you. To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what to say. But then I remembered you're still my brother and I'll just talk to you the way I would if you were here._

 _I feel bad I haven't told you about the scout visit you set up for me. Dad was angry when he found out I was leaning towards Ole Miss and not O.U., but Ole Miss offered me a full scholarship after seeing me play and he couldn't deny that was a good thing. He and mom took me to visit Ole Miss a month after that, and we talked with the coach there for a long time. While it doesn't look like they'll start me as a freshman, they have hopes that I'll replace the current quarterback next year who's a senior and playing his last season. I like the school a lot and even Dad was impressed. You'd be happy to know he held himself back and didn't tell the coach about the Packers once. Heh._

 _Rosalie is good, she got into Alabama U. and the University of Florida, but I told her she can't go there. I don't want her walking around in a bikini all the time in front of other dudes. Alabama is only three hours away so that should work fine. We'll see what she decides._

 _I guess that's it. I'm not going to question you or ask you why and shit. I guess I know. I've heard all the stories and stuff._

 _I love you, and don't drop the soap._

 _\- Emmett_

 _~*o*~_

 _Edward,_

 _Hi Son, how are you? I'm so sorry I haven't written to you sooner. Although I miss you terribly and you're always on my mind, I've been trying to keep myself busy these days. Not much has changed around here, other than the library expansion being well underway. There's a lot going on at the high school with prom and graduation coming up. Your brother's soaking up every minute of it._

 _He actually signed his National Letter of Intent last week. You'd have been so proud to see him up there, smiling in his Ole Miss cap. I took a few pictures and considered sending them to you, but I wasn't sure if you were able to have personal photos where you are or not._

 _I can't tell you how many times I've gone to write this letter and each time I have no idea how to start. So much of me wants to tell you how sorry I am for not being there for you and for not seeing that you were hurting and unhappy, or even struggling, really. Looking back, I've tried to remember anything that hinted at what you may've been feeling at the time, but there's nothing. It seems you've inherited your father's poker face… and his stubbornness. It breaks my heart that you couldn't have just let me in._

 _I understand why you didn't want us at your plea hearing, but I still feel horrible I wasn't there. Being at the sentencing was hard enough, and while I'm glad I was able to hug you and tell you goodbye, there was so much more I wanted to say. I wish I had the chance to tell you how much I love you, Edward. And remind you that you're still a good man, even though you might not believe that you are. Yes, you made poor decisions and terrible mistakes, but you owned up to them and took responsibility. You took the high road in the end and that's what counts._

 _I'll come visit with you soon and hopefully your father will join me. He's still trying to process all of this. You know how he is, he just needs time, I'm sure of it. In the meantime, the mother in me wants to remind you to eat right, sleep well, and play nice with others, though I hardly think any of the above apply at all in that place. Use this time, Edward, and think about what makes_ _you_ _happy and how you plan to get there once you get out._

 _I hope you're well. We all love you and miss you. Be safe, sweetheart._

 _All my love,_

 _Mom_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dear Emmett,_

 _Thank you for the letter. It was the first one I've received and you have no idea how much I needed it. I'm so happy to hear you like and will attend Ole Miss. I knew you could do it. You're going to be the star you were always meant to be. I'm truly sorry I wasn't there for your Letter of Intent signing. I hope you know I was with you, in spirit. I'm also happy to hear that Rosalie is considering Alabama. It's a great school and I'm glad you're going to try the long distance thing. It isn't easy, but you've never been one to take the easy way out._

 _I know you think you know what happened, and I'm sure you have all the facts. In therapy (yes, I'm in therapy, stop laughing) they teach us that we need to reconcile our behavior within ourselves and part of that is the painful process of making things right with others. I've been unable to even start one to Tanya, whatever I could say wouldn't be big enough, so I'm starting with you. I didn't think you'd mind being my guinea pig. I'm not asking you to talk to me about her; this letter is to tell you how sorry I am that I failed you. It's a start to a long, long journey ahead._

 _The affair with Bella was inappropriate and selfish. I thought of no one else but myself and even though I rationalized my behavior as finally doing what I wanted and not what was expected, there were a million ways to go about it better than I did. No one deserved my deception and lies. Including you._

 _As older brothers go, I've been the worst. Older brothers are supposed to protect their siblings, look out for them, and help them to steer clear of the pitfalls of adolescence that we have already navigated. Obviously, I never navigated anything the right way for you to benefit from my knowledge._

 _There are no words that adequately describe my remorse. You needed me and I wasn't there, for that I am sorry. You were struggling with Dad and your decisions and I wasn't there, for that I am sorry. As a coach, I should've had my sole focus on you, and I wasn't there, for that I am sorry._

 _I'm so proud of you for doing what you want, for being a strong human being and for being such a good kid. You're going to be a much better man than I ever was._

 _I'm supposed to ask for you to write back, detailing all of the hurt, anger, and pain I caused you. While it'll be hard to read, I don't think I can move on without knowing how you truly feel._

 _(And as far as prison life goes, it's not so bad. I'm not anyone's bitch nor have I been shived yet. But I'd strongly recommend you staying out of it.)_

 _I love you,_

 _Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Mom,_

 _I'm going to start much like you did, chit chat and the small things to work up my courage because I feel so much shame. I wrote to Emmett first, I hope you don't mind, because that was going to be easier than writing to you._

 _YES, please send me any and all pictures – the signing, prom, graduation – we're allowed pictures as long as they're not pornographic. I'll have to make sure I warn Emmett. But I do desperately want to see him complete his senior year. I'm so sorry I missed Emmett's big moment, and yours and dad's too. It's just another reminder that all the things I've done have made me lose so much._

 _Things aren't so bad here, there are no really bad criminals, like child murderers or anything, but it's still not pleasant, not gonna lie, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm capable of taking care of myself in here and have gotten somewhat friendly with my cellmate, a guy named Jacob who's in for grand theft. So see? He never hurt anyone._

 _Huh. I guess THAT guy in the cell would be me._

 _I'm just going to say it because I know you're wracking your brain and thinking you're the worst mother in the world. But I did these things all by myself. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd noticed, because I wouldn't have confided in you. What I was doing was wrong, I know this, and I'm so sorry for humiliating everyone. Falling from grace in your eyes is something I never even thought about, and now that I probably have, it's more heart wrenching than you could imagine. I only ever wanted to make you (and dad) proud, and I fear I've done the exact opposite. I know you say you love me and I'm not a bad person, but I kind of am. For now, anyway, but I'm going to try and get better. I'm going to therapy and working through my issues._

 _Your encouragement to figure out how to be happy when I get out lets me believe that I will actually have a chance at that, even if right now I know I probably don't deserve one. I'm not going to talk to you about Dad, or Tanya, there are separate conversations for them. I notice you didn't mention her, and I have to thank you for that. I must admit I did think your letter would contain some sort of chastisement where she's concerned, and I appreciate you keeping your love for me above all else. You don't know how much I need it._

 _As for not allowing you at the plea hearing, please know I did that to spare you any further heartache. I didn't want one of your last memories of your son to be being declared a guilty man and hauled off in cuffs, even though we both knew it was coming. I didn't think you needed to see it._

 _I really hope you do visit, I would like to tell you how sorry I am in person and that I love you._

 _-Your son, Edward_

 _~*o*~_

Bella,

You will never get this because I'm not allowed any communication with you, but in therapy they tell us to write down all the things we want to say, all the feelings we want to share with the people in (or out) of our lives in letters even if we never send them. I'm just going to keep this one open on my notepad and fill it as I think of things to say because I have too many thoughts in my head to just get them all down now. My feelings change daily.

The first one, the biggest one, is regret. Not regret in knowing you, but regret in doing what I knew was wrong. I was the adult, you were the minor, and I took advantage of the situation in the worst possible way. Also, regret for my actions that caused your whole family to be in danger. It's difficult to write about, but I have to. It's the worst thing I've ever done, even worse than starting a relationship with a teenage girl.

This is all going to sound like excuses, but I was really fucked up. I had been for months, and it all just grew and grew until I couldn't think straight. I knew what I was doing was going to cause you heartache, but in my head I had it that I'd become your hero. You wouldn't be able to leave for California if you needed to stay for your family. I never intended to hurt your mother, and in hindsight (which I know is useless), I never really wanted to harm your home. I can honestly say I really don't know what I thought would happen, I was just desperate and confused and focused on all the wrong things. Namely, life without you. And here I am, getting exactly that.

That's it for now, I think. This is harder to do than you can imagine. I'll be back.

 _~*o*~_

 _Tanya,_

 _I'm sure getting this letter is a bit of a shock. I'm in therapy here, and they tell us that in order for us to start helping ourselves to not make the same mistakes we need to communicate with those we've hurt. Reconciling our past injustices and taking whatever blame lies on us. It seems sort of selfish to me to make you read this, but I really do want to use the program here to get my life back on track._

 _This letter is to tell you that all the blame does lie on me. I'm sure you're feeling so many things towards me - anger, hatred, confusion, sadness, and I deserve them all. I don't expect you to read this or answer it, quite frankly. I can picture you trying to figure out where you went wrong, where you messed up to have me do the things I did... I know a part of you is doing that. As I said above, all the blame lies on me._

 _It all started so long ago. After I tore my ACL it was just expected I'd follow in my father's footsteps and become a coach since I wasn't going to be a big football star. For years I've resented the fact that the decision was made for me, but I see clearly now that it was my decision to follow blindly. That is my fault._

 _I also want to tell you that what was wrong in our relationship was never you, it was always me and the perception that followed us around that we would BE together always. I did the hurtful things I did because I was unhappy in my life. Not with you, directly, you always were extremely kind and loving towards me, but I was unhappy with choices I made that I thought were made for me._

 _Our relationship suffered because I thought it was out of my hands. Staying together through college, moving in together, marriage, when I could've ended it at any point along the way when I realized I was unhappy and we both would be in different places right now. I'm sorry if that hurts, I definitely don't want to hurt you more, but I'm trying to be honest. I will always love you, just not in the way you deserve. I should've been a man and done the right thing by ending our relationship instead of waiting for it to implode._

 _I think the inappropriate relationship I was involved in was a way for me to lash out against all the things I thought were out of my control. Like it was the one thing I could control. I now realize that it was a destructive path to take for everyone involved; unfortunately that affair was the only choice I made, when I should've made so many others._

 _I guess I just want you to know that I want you to be happy. Truly happy. And you would never have been happy with me. I am so sorry, so so sorry, for everything I put you through, and the things I'm sure you're still going through. No apology I could make to you would be big enough for the humiliation you've endured._

 _Not that I have any right, but I really do wish you nothing but good things in your life. You deserve them all._

 _I hope you feel the need to write me back, telling me what you need to say. I can take it._

 _\- Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dear Jailbird,_

 _I'm fucking with you, couldn't resist. Oh shit, do they screen these? I guess I shouldn't curse. I hope you are okay in there, I did some research on where you are and it seems like a pretty decent place as far as jails go. If you weren't so far away, I'd come visit you. I'd sit across from you and look at you through that window and talk on that phone thing on the wall. But I wouldn't press my lips or my hand up to the glass for you to touch me. That's a chick move._

 _So I don't really want to rehash what happened. I accept your apology. I always will, you're my brother and even if you don't think you were a good one, I do. I wish you could've talked to me like I talked to you. You helped me get to Ole Miss. If I were given the opportunity to help you, maybe you wouldn't have gotten in so far over your head._

 _School is awesome. I'm on the field during games and that's a real rush. It feels like the NFL, you know? The coach is great and I'm learning a lot. Not that you were a bad coach, it's just different. Dad has stopped giving me pointers, I think he's intimidated. Rosalie has been to visit already and so far so good on the long distance thing. She's got some co-ed dorm though I'm not happy about, and some guy named Roger she studies with. But I saw a pic of him on Facebook and I could kick his ass so I'm not too worried about him._

 _Well, time for class. I'll write soon._

 _-Emmett (the not-in-jail brother)_

 _~*o*~_

Hey Bella, I'm back.

I hate this place. It's really awful. I suck it up to Mom and Emmett, breezing through letters like I'm at fat camp or something because I don't want to worry them. But I can tell you here, 'cause you won't be getting this.

I got beat up today. Looked at some guy wrong and he came at me. I'm okay, just pretty bruised, busted lip, and my ribs ache. I told the therapist I finally am getting what I deserve, and he looked at me for a long time. Asked me why I thought that. I said because I'm a horrible human being. He told me to write down five things I liked about myself and I came up with one. I came clean and am doing what I can to make sure you all have the lives you should be having without me. He told me that wasn't really about me and to look for more things. I'm trying.

I think a lot about the time we spent together, even though I know I shouldn't. When they let us out into the yard I think about how spring is here, and it's been a year since (I assume) you've moved from the little town you hated to star-studded Los Angeles. I hope you're doing what you wanted. I don't even know if you're in college or going out for auditions.

I won't tell my therapist this - because I'm sure he'd tell me I'm not supposed to feel what I really feel - that I miss you. I miss what we had even though it was wrong, and I miss just being next to you. You made me so happy even when you didn't. Just knowing I was going to see you was enough. They keep telling me I need to call what we had as a very 'inappropriate' thing, but part of me can't get past the fact that it wasn't. I write it in letters to others, how 'inappropriate' our relationship was but part of me, the me when I'm alone and scared of this place, won't ever think that.

 _~*o*~_

 _Edward,_

 _I hope you've been doing well this last year. Your mother told me you are being told to write letters as apologies to those you've hurt. I guess I'm not surprised you lumped me in with the one to your mother. You didn't hurt me, except by hurting her. I just keep scratching my head wondering why you threw everything I handed to you away. I'm disappointed. Be careful in there._

 _Take care, Dad_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dad,_

 _I'm fine. Holding my own. I know I hurt Mom and she's been writing me, I'm sure you know. I didn't throw anything away that you gave me, because you didn't give me much but unrealistic expectations of a life you wanted me to follow. I'm not bitter or angry anymore. I realize only I made the bad choices that I did. I'm glad you didn't stand in Emmett's way, letting him find his own path. He's going to make you very proud at Ole Miss._

 _I am sorry for putting my whole family through my nightmare, even if you don't want to hear it._

 _Take care of Mom._

 _-Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Emmett,_

 _How are you doing, kid? Now that school's out, what are you doing for the summer? I hope you're taking it easy and just enjoying yourself. I bet Dad made you get a job though._

 _As for your question in your last letter, no, I am still not anyone's bitch. I did get into a fight in the yard with a guy over a weight bench, but the guards broke it up before we could get in too much damage. I've been keeping to myself ever since. I sure don't want any extra time put on my sentence. As for your other question, yes, there is solitary here, but I have been fortunate not to find myself there. I'm staying on the up and up._

 _Write when you can,_

 _Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Edward,_

 _I hope this letter makes it in time, but if not, we just want to wish you a happy birthday. Your father asked that I send a money order to your inmate account. I know, I know – you don't want our help, but he's adamant that you don't go without in there, and I tend to agree with him._

 _He's been moping more than usual lately - spending a lot of time in his office. As a matter of fact, he's been like that since he received your letter. I hope you don't get angry, but I took a peek at what you wrote. It breaks my heart when I think about the strain in your relationship with your father, Edward. He's far from perfect, but I don't think you quite understand how much he loves you and your brother._

 _People show love in different ways. Some people are great with words, expressing how they feel with ease - clearly you and your father are not these types of people. Others show their affection by showering their loved ones with gifts and hugs, though again, your father isn't the touchy-feely type. But in all your anger, you may not remember or have picked up on all the ways your father was trying to show you he loved you._

 _From the moment you and your brother were born, you two were the apples of his eye. I remember him holding you as babies, speaking quietly and telling you what a wonderful life we'd give you. As young boys, he was out in the backyard every day, teaching and guiding you both, instilling that confidence that kept you boys cool under pressure on and off that field. He was there for every low and every high, feeling EVERYTHING that you felt, sharing both your joy and pain. He wept when you tore your ACL, but not for himself, he was worried for you and scared that you'd never be happy with a future that didn't include playing football. The thought of not seeing that spark, that elation that you got on that field – it broke his heart – even more than turning down the Packers._

 _So yes, maybe he had dreams for you (and your brother) and maybe his expectations weren't always in-line with what you wanted for yourself. You're his baby and he only wanted the best for you – he still does. You must forgive him, Edward._

 _Please give what I said some thought. Nothing would make me happier than seeing you two get past this. We love you and miss you so much. Be safe and take care._

 _Love,_

 _Mom_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dear Edward,_

 _I don't really know what to say – I've started this letter a hundred times and I always end up just staring at the paper. Part of me wants you to suffer in my silence, but the other part of me wants you to know exactly what you have done to me. Your letter makes it seem so black and white, so cut and dry, when it's anything but. I used to think you got the better deal – getting the hell out of here. Away from the stares and the whispers, the sympathetic looks and the pats on the shoulder. You see, Edward, you not only broke my heart, but you tore my life apart. Everything I knew, or I guess I should say THOUGHT I knew, was pulled out from under me. I lost you, your family – they tried, boy did they, but I think I was an ugly reminder of the nightmare you brought to them, my job – I ended up quitting, there's only so many times I could hide in the bathroom while Renee Swan met with the board of directors, my future, my dreams, the life I thought we would have. You took it all away._

 _So here I sit all these months wondering why? Why would you do this? Was I not good enough? Pretty enough? Was she better in bed? Why would you throw away something so precious for some teenage girl? And now you tell me it was because you weren't happy? That it was a way for you to lash out, to control something in your life? No, that's not good enough. You don't get to do that to me. When I think of all the times I put you first, all the times I turned my cheek, all the times I cried myself to sleep. I made excuse after excuse for you, always trying to be your biggest cheerleader. And you know what the worst thing is? I want to hate you. I really want to hate you. I want to erase you from my life so bad – but I can't... not yet anyway. There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not forced to be reminded of you, our life, this misery. I want to forget, I want to move on, but there is a part of me that still loves you and I hate myself for it._

 _My counselor (yes, I, too, am in counseling) tells me I need to concentrate on myself, to start putting myself first, to take things day by day. I'm working on it – some days are better than others, but I'm getting stronger. You might have broken my heart, but I'm not letting you take my spirit too. I'm going to get over you, I'm going to chase my dreams – just not with you. Your apology is just a drop in the bucket, and as much as I want to forgive and forget – I can't right now._

 _I hope you find what you're looking for, Edward. I truly do_.

 _Tanya_

 _~*o*~_

I got a letter from Tanya today, Bella. Months and months after I sent my apology letter to her. It hurt, not going to lie, but I deserved everything she said. She didn't bad mouth you, though, not that I ever thought she would. She's such a good person, it kills me to think that I was the one that made her finally feel hate. I haven't written her back yet, I don't know what else to say, and she didn't really seem like she'd welcome it, not that I blame her. Maybe I'll try in a few months.

I'm taking an art therapy class. It was going well until I realized I was trying to paint the back of my pickup in our field. So I started telling the therapist the truth. That I missed you and still wanted you. We talked for a long time, and he made me think back to the time we spent there, which made me try to pinpoint any time where I truly felt you had feelings for me. I came up empty. I gave you so much power, I made you some entity that was going to save me from a life I found myself floundering in. How did I become that guy?

Even though I'm the one that should've known better, I want to blame you for some of it. They call you an innocent girl, a girl I took advantage of and it's something I've said myself. But part of me really thinks it was a two-way street. You knew what you were doing. You teased and threw me away so easily just to come back even harder than before. Why? Why did you do all that? Was I a thrill? A way to rebel? I hate you for that.

I am struggling with trying to put what we had in the proper perspective because I have these questions in my head I'm never going to get answers to. I'm going to go to sleep now and try hard to think of something else.

 _~*o*~_

 _Mom,_

 _It was really good to see you and Emmett. You have no idea. I had no clue how much I needed human contact that wasn't a strip search. Thank you for bringing him on his spring break, I know it's probably not how he wanted to spend the week but next year, when he's a junior, he can go hog wild in Florida or Mexico or wherever the kids go nowadays. I understand why Dad didn't come and I wish you'd stop apologizing for him. He's a grown man who can confront me on his own if that's what he wants to do. Almost three years of therapy has taught me that I don't need to have my father's approval to move on and make a good life for myself once this is over (in two loooong years but I'm getting there). He's never going to change, but that doesn't mean I have to stay the same. I feel good about realizing that. Oh and I shaved like you asked._

 _Write soon, I love you, your son, Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Tanya,_

 _I hope you are well. I also hope you don't mind me writing you. I just wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. My mother told me that Dimitri is a great guy and that makes me happy. I hope you spend a very long life with him._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Edward_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dear Seattle Seahawk player #84,_

 _Would you send me your autograph? I'm a poor inmate who would love to have your picture hanging on my cement wall._

 _DUDE! Second round draft pick! They let us watch it last night because I told the guards you were my brother and they were excited too. You have some fans in here, just so you know ha ha._

 _I'm so damn proud of you, you have no idea. I'm so upset I'm not going to be able to see any of your games in the stadium, but football is big around here (as is betting for cigarettes and toilet booze) so I'm sure you'll be on every Sunday in the common room. But the minute they allow me to travel out of NY state once I'm paroled next year, I'll be right there cheering you on._

 _I bet Rosalie is ecstatic, except about the Seattle weather which will 'totally fuck up' her hair, as she puts it. Tell her I said hello and thank her for the birthday card._

 _\- Your #1 fan_

 _~*o*~_

 _Dear Edward,_

 _I just want to thank you for you note of congratulations. Your well wishes are appreciated. I also hope things are going better for you. Your mom gives me updates here and there._

 _I also want you to know that I've forgiven you. It's taken me a long time to be able to say that, a lot of therapy, so many tears, and finally being in a normal, healthy relationship to get me here. But regardless, I'm happier and more at peace than I have ever been, and I want that for you too._

 _Good luck, Edward._

 _Tanya_

 _~*o*~_

This is my last entry, my last paragraph. Writing to you has honestly been the biggest help to my rehabilitation. I've realized that while the things I did were destructive, I'm not a destructive or bad person. You were in my life for a reason, but I don't need what you offered anymore. It's taken me a lot of hard work to come to that conclusion. A lot of hard talking and digging into myself and what I thought was a relationship. I've found peace within myself and I can honestly say that I hope that wherever life takes you, you treat people with love and kindness. Think of others as much as you think of yourself. That is the best advice I could give you.

My therapist told me to hold onto this notebook, to go back and read it whenever I start to waiver and fall back into old thoughts. But I think in a somewhat ironic way, the best thing I can do is burn this. I'm done now, said all I have to say.

I forgive you because I forgive myself.

Goodbye, Bella.

 _~*o*~_

True to my word, I burn the notebook in my therapist's wastebasket as a sort of celebration the day I'm released.

* * *

 **I haven't had a lot of A/N's on this story, but I have to interject some love here.**

 **This chapter was super special to me because I had two guest writers helping me out.**

 **LayAtHomeMom took on the role of Esme, capturing her confusion between love for her son and loyalty to her husband perfectly, sharing the ease of her own stellar writing ability for a story not her own.**

 **Carrie ZM made her fic debut (woot!) as Tanya, and she captured exactly what I would've wanted Tanya to say to Edward as well as if I'd written it myself, if not even better! I'm so very proud of her.**

 **So, big thanks to them, for making this chapter not only a TRUE team effort, but for making it unique in voice and making me sappy with their enthusiasm to be a part of it.**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Six years after the fire, I've got a new life.

"Edward, the Guinness tapped. Go replace it."

I salute the weathered man behind the bar, his eyes rolling at my enthusiasm. Going outside to the basement doors where the kegs are housed, I breathe deeply, letting my eyes close for just a moment. Every day I make sure to appreciate the simple things; never taking advantage of what my freedom has brought me. I continue my task while whistling the song playing in the barroom above me.

The Crow's Nest is lively for a Wednesday at four o'clock. Stools and tables filled by the old cronies and the kids from NYU that are 'slumming it', trying to be hip frequenting an old man watering hole where the peanuts are stale and the talk even staler.

I love it.

My life is completely different out on the other side of metal bars that kept me locked in. There's no green line to act as a guide as I walk like a free man, although I do find myself looking down from time to time. There's no shoveling food in my mouth with only precious minutes to get the hunger satiated before the loud alarm rings, but sometimes I do forget that and then wonder where my food went when I finally lift my head from my plate.

Minor things like that bring me down, but mostly, I'm happy, finally living a life that I've chosen for myself. All alone. All me. I shouldn't be as proud of that as I am, but a small part of me is starting to believe I've earned it.

Pete and I spend the next few hours side by side, pouring the shots and pulling the beers. He splits early, leaving me to lock up at 2 am, tossing out the regulars that will be here at eleven in the morning to get their whiskey and shoot the shit, pouring over the Daily News and the Post like they have any say on what goes on in the world.

Barflies, all of them, but it's what's kept him in business for thirty years, and it's the clientele I'll gladly inherit when he eventually decides to retire and sell the bar to me, the kid he gave a chance to.

I put a fiver in the juke box and pick a few songs to play while I clean up. Singing out loud, I sweep peanut shells into piles, restock the bar for tomorrow, move the empties to the back to take out the next day.

The smell from the ashtrays is strong and stings my nose as I wipe down the bar top. You're not supposed to smoke in New York City establishments, but Pete would rather pay the fine than lose the customers, regulars that he says "should be able to smoke a goddamn Lucky with their bourbon if they goddamn want to".

I make a face as I wipe them out. Smoking was something high on the priority list in prison, to break up the boredom, but the first time I stuck a lit cigarette in my mouth and inhaled, I doubled over coughing, tears coming to my eyes.

But not from the hacking up of my lungs. It was from painful regret and bottomless sorrow. I looked at that cigarette through squinted, teary eyes and the first time became the last time. I haven't touched one since.

For a long time after that, just the smell of cigarette smoke caused a violent reaction. Heaving, sweating, my pulse racing and hammering. It was all in my head, but the memories associated with that smell assaulted me daily. Like I said, there's not much else to do in prison but smoke, and the inmates would light up all day. It was impossible not to be around it.

I'm used to it now, after being surrounded by it constantly for five years and now here at the bar. My reaction is less visceral, more a nagging in the back of my mind, a reminder that it never brought me anything but bad things. Funny how such a small object, something so ordinary, has become something so huge, a token of my downward spiral.

It's something I know my body won't let me do. I can't do. I don't _want_ to do.

I pull myself from my thoughts and look around quickly to make sure I haven't left anything undone, and turn the lights off. After I lock up, I walk two feet to my door, taking the steps two at a time to my second floor walkup above the bar.

It's a one bedroom with a crappy kitchen but it's all good 'cause it's something I've earned and chosen for myself.

When I first got paroled, I floundered, staying in a halfway house until I could get a job and a place to live. I had given Tanya everything we owned together, plus my truck to sell, and let her have every penny in the bank account. I had to start with nothing when I got out, and it was okay. It was something I needed to do. Start clean. My family offered to help, of course. Actually begged me to let them, but I turned it all down.

I flip the TV on and settle onto the couch with a beer, comfortable in my skin. Life was hard when I got out, I couldn't return home, not that there was anything for me there, and loneliness was a big part of my everyday existence. Even after as short of a sentence as I had, the world changes faster than you can figure out. It's what you're waiting for, counting down to, all the time you're in there.

OUT. Getting OUT.

But it's pretty rough once you're sprung, when you have no one to lean on to help you readjust.

Pete's a good guy, hiring parolees because he was on that side of the fence once, now giving back to a system that gave him a second chance. Petty larceny, that was his thing. My parole officer is the one that brought me to him, and he hired me on the spot.

He's taken a shine to me over the last year, saying I'm the only ex-con to take a job seriously like it was truly a new lease on life. He likes my work ethic, and over time we've discussed what brought me here, to his little hole in the wall.

The sham of a life I was leading, the crime that placed me where he once was - he understands and listens without judgement. I've even told him about the girl.

I've spent Christmas and Easter at his home in Brooklyn with his wife, who dotes on me like a mother, feeding me, occasionally doing my laundry, and doesn't like me to be alone.

Six years and hard work have made a new man, a confident man that knows what he wants. Prison makes you – if you choose to take advantage of it – realize so much.

Like the path I was on was destructive but it's up to me to make sure I don't fall into the reckless, and let's be honest, passive behavior that once ruled me.

* * *

I finally get the approval after a year on parole to travel to Seattle, where Emmett is still going strong, star quarterback of a team that has a good shot at making the playoffs for their second year in a row. He's mentioned Dad isn't coming to this game, which makes me wonder if he asked him not to or Dad chose not to, so I hang out with the other players' families, cheering and eating the awesome spread in one of the boxes. Rosalie is sitting next to me, all welcoming smiles and big hugs, and she helps me try to relax. I finally do towards the end of the first quarter, when I realize there's no one staring at me. I've been in articles about Emmett, a footnote to a rising star's family life, but no one seems to be paying attention to the ex-con brother.

It's a stigma I'll always carry and one I know I deserve. A skidmark on an otherwise clean life. It's work but I manage to not let it rule me.

I'm only in for the weekend, but we make the most of it, hanging out with the team after they win, and on Monday, before I fly out, Emmett and I toss the football around in the yard of his large home on the water.

* * *

Charlotte comes in some nights to hang out after a long day of busting balls. I enjoy her company; she makes me thankful for what I have when she tells me about her day, tales of people that are far worse off than me.

Her job involves seeing people at their worst, junkies and those thrown away while trying to help them overcome the obstacles the system puts them through. Social work, the never-ending job of working out family strife and what's best for the kid are most of the situations she sees. She needs a thick skin to deal with it all.

She's a good person, different than Tanya good, who blindly swallowed my faults and tried to never push and always made everything okay. Charlotte confronts me when I'm low, demanding to know what's got me. She doesn't let me get lost in my mind and shut down, shut her out. She has no time for it, she says.

There's no pressure with her to move in, to cement things. She's happy to come to the bar and hang out until we lock up and head upstairs. We spend a lot of time talking, she lets me vent when I'm having a weak day, and I listen when she yells about children that flounder between their unfit parents and a foster system that isn't perfect.

We're comfortable.

For as easy as things are with her, this has been the hardest thing - being with someone romantically after my skewed version of what love is. I was honest with her from the get go, not wanting to start anything with secrets. Because I know best of all where secrets lead you.

She knows bad, and she helps me remember I'm not bad.

She makes me feel like I deserve to share life with someone, even with the baggage I carry. Even if it doesn't end up being her.

* * *

My parole officer set me up with a therapist when I got out so I could continue working on myself. I go once a week, and a lot of the conversation centers around moving on from the decisions I made, ways I can make sure I don't repeat patterns, focusing on the good things I've got going, and not letting my past corrode and eat me.

The girl comes up.

But in a way that is history, long ago, something that happened during a time in my life when I had no control. We talk about why I chose her, above all else. Most of the talk where she is concerned centers on exactly that and not her specifically.

I hold no fantasy about her, about the time we were together. I no longer think in terms of "if it had just been different" or "if she were here now, here's how it would be".

She's a sidebar, a passage in the long, always revolving story of the man I'm becoming.

She was a blip. A moment.

I grow and change and develop with Pete, the bar, Charlotte, and soon, the past is just that.

The past.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Emmett and Rosalie get engaged right after his Super Bowl win and a month after that, they come to New York to spend a week with me.

We do the touristy stuff I haven't gotten around to, the Empire State Building, MOMA, and The Lion King at Rosalie's request. We talk very little about their wedding, still very early in the planning stages, but it makes me a bit uncomfortable, remembering my own planning. Plus it'll be my first trip home. They're aware of how I'm feeling and keep the wedding talk to generalizations and honeymoon thoughts, something I'm grateful for. I'll face it when I have to face it, a good year away, they assure me.

As always, Emmett cuts to the chase of another thing on my mind. "Just invite them to come see you. I know Mom is waiting for you to make the first move."

"She could come; she doesn't need to wait for me to invite her." I wipe wing sauce from my fingers.

Emmett gives me a look. "You know how she is. She's -"

"I know, waiting for me and dad to make up," I interrupt. "I have no problem with him; he's the one that's abrupt on the phone, wanting to get off right away and talking about anything but what happened."

"Not everyone is as comfortable as you, talking about it."

"Well, too bad. This is who I am now. All of it comes with knowing me. He pretends it didn't happen." I grab another napkin and push my food away.

Rosalie orders another round. "Well, for what it's worth, I agree with you. Everything we do shapes us, and if this is how you got to where you are supposed to be, then there's no _reason_ to pretend it didn't happen."

I look at my brother's fiancée, no longer the young girl in the hall but the woman going for her Ph.D. in Behavioral Science. Wants to be a criminologist, of all things. "Thank you, Rosalie. I knew you'd get it."

She smiles and takes another bite of her wing. "Part of me feels bad for him." My smile falls and her eyes show sympathy. "Not for the reasons you think, not because of something his son did, but because he can't even see that you need him now, more than ever. He's missing out on knowing you, and you've really worked on being pretty great."

* * *

I decide to stop the therapy, after long conversations with Charlotte, Pete and his wife, and my therapist himself. We agree that if at any time I need to talk about something, even if it's just a one-time appointment, I won't hesitate to make the call. I won't forget that I don't have to close everything into a box like it's a wrong thought and hide it all away.

Ending therapy is almost like getting out of jail, the act itself feeling like I've finished another important phase in my life.

Spring is in the air and I take a lungful of it, standing with my hands in my pockets on my therapist's front steps after my last session. Left or right, which direction to go, because all roads are open to me. I laugh internally, realizing I sound like an inspirational poster in my head a lot lately.

Once I'm back in my apartment, I call my parents, thanking them again for making the trip out over the weekend. My father is still uncomfortable on the phone, even though the visit was good, if not a bit tense at times. It's a small step up a bigger hill. But it's one we're both willing to make.

There is nothing but happiness and kind thoughts in my head when my mother mentions she just heard Tanya is expecting her second girl, and I ask her to pass on my congratulations. Tanya and I don't speak, nothing past those two letters in prison. I know my mother loves her, and I'm glad Tanya shares a bit of her life with her. For me, I'm rewarded the next phone call with my mother telling me she appreciated the thought.

It's the best gift I could give her, a life without me. But it's Tanya that gives me the best gift.

The gift of her life moving on from me with no resentment, no grudge, no remaining blackness. All that's in her is love – the love that always filled her heart - which now overflows for her new family, the people that deserve it.

I'm glad she chose not to let me leave any lingering, visible scars.

* * *

"Oh come on! That guy is the worst player on an already bad team," Bruce yells over the announcer coming from the TV, calling a strike. It's a beautiful summer day, the doors to the bar are open to let the sunshine in and I've got a handful of people watching the game, drinking their beer, and arguing. Typical Saturday afternoon.

"He scored four home runs in the first five games of the season!"

Bruce shakes his head at Gus, whose hands are splayed out in front of him like he can't believe the Bronx Bombers are being so disrespected.

The beer in Bruce's mug sloshes a bit on the bar as he makes his own hand gestures. "He's probably on the juice!"

"Eh, what do you know," Gus grumbles and waves a dismissive hand at the man that's sat next to him on their regular stools for years. "What do you think, Eddie?"

"I think that the Yankees aren't worth fighting about. You know I'm a football guy." I smile, pouring a pitcher for Pam, the waitress on shift this afternoon.

Gus moves his shoulders up and down. "Oh yeah, brother of a big time Super Bowl winner. Oooh, let me kiss the ring."

I lay one hand on the bar, the other on the counter next to me and give Gus a disbelieving look. "Who the fuck was first in line to see the ring when it walked through that door?"

Bruce nods and lifts his beer in a salute towards me. "Yeah, and who was the first one to get his picture taken with Emmett Cullen, MVP?" We laugh as Gus grumbles and shoves peanuts in his mouth, shell and all.

"Tell you what, if Hernandez hits a home run in the next inning, I'll buy you both a -"

"Excuse me; can I get a Blue Moon?"

I stop mid-sentence, my breath and words seizing inside me like I just got impaled by the very cold metal of a long, sharp spear.

I don't move, I don't look away from Gus and Bruce who are looking at me, waiting for me to finish my offer of free beer. They don't seem to know what's wrong.

They don't seem to notice that all the blood in my body just drained out of me, my mouth has dried up and my fingers have deformed themselves into a vice-like grip on the wood.

They can't see the blackness encroaching the sides of my eyes, making the two of them look like small pinpoints of light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

They don't know, but I know.

I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Is that what they call you now? Eddie?" I hear a tentative question.

My head turns to the left, my body fighting the instinct to run out the back door. I look at the wall of liquor behind me, because that's safer, seeing her reflection in the mirror that stands behind the bottles, making her distorted and partially blocked. The first time my eyes have landed on her face since her anger poured down around me in a furious beating of her fists.

"Edward." It's still silk, and I know I shouldn't trust it.

"Eddie, get the lady a drink, what's the matter with you?" One of the odd couple says, and I remember I'm the only one here tending bar. I re-focus on them and they're eyeing me and the girl, shooting curious looks between us. "I'm sorry, young lady; Eddie here is a bit of a strange one. But he's harmless." Gus laughs and out of the side of my eye I see the girl extending a hand and introducing herself.

"Bella," she says, all the liquid honey and sunshine on grass pouring out of her as she says hello to the old men.

I turn while she's looking away, and my first real glimpse of the girl that owned it all guts me.

She's still utterly and flawlessly perfect.

The painted, red lips are now a soft pink, but still full and pouty, with the always present hint of a sharp, sly smirk. The hair is a little shorter, but still shiny, still wavy, inviting hands to bury and pull. The big, doe brown eyes with the perfectly dramatic eyeliner are the same, and when they land on me, it's like they never let me go.

"Hi," she whispers, and sits lightly on the stool next to her.

"She wants a Blue Moon, Eddie," Gus prompts, waving his hands towards me. "What, do _I_ have to get it?"

"Shut up, Gus." My mouth moves thickly, filled with sawdust. He growls in response, but he and Bruce shift in their stools and go back to watching the game.

I pull myself from her and pour the beer, shaky hands gripping the glass tightly and trying to be unaffected as they place the torn, cardboard coaster, then the drink, down in front of her.

"Thank you." My eyes don't look away when she pulls it to her lips and swallows, even though I know they should.

My pulse doesn't slow, even though I know I should make it behave.

My cock doesn't sit still, even though I know it's wrong.

My heart doesn't feel icy, even though I know it must be frozen over by now.

"Bella." It's like a curse, a prayer.

"Edward."

There's a long pause, she's waiting on me. "What are you doing here?" My hands grip the bar like I'm going to be dragged away, kicking and screaming.

"I'm in an off-off; well, _very_ off Broadway play. I'll be here for six months."

"And you thought it was a good idea to come in and say hello."

Her eyes look at me with a bit of sadness, for what, I'm not sure. "I did. But maybe..." She shakes her head. "There's so much I want to say to you." Then quieter, "So much I owe you."

She looks away, fishing in her purse and pulling out a pack of Marlboro Lights which she fumbles with nervously. On bartender instinct, I grab the lighter and flick the button. She looks at me, as she inhales, and doesn't look away as the smoke leaves her mouth and heads above us.

Her hand lightly touches mine, where it's resting, still holding the lighter in a death grip. My knees almost buckle with the weight of the tremors moving through my body at the feel of her skin on mine.

"I was hoping to talk to you while I'm here."

Talk to me. She wants to talk to me. While she's here.

She pushes a lock of hair off her shoulder and leans in, big eyes unsure. "If you want."

All the sound around us dims, everyone fades from view as I war with myself. The old me and the new me. The one that's stopped thinking about her and the one that's never stopped missing her.

I think about her legs wrapped around me. Her hands in my hair, pulling. I think about vanilla and scratches on my back. I think about fires and where they lead.

Cause she is fire. The hottest, deadliest kind of fire.

My head lowers, my eyes close. I stand still for a long moment, listening to her breathe, only one thought making patterns in my brain, burning red hot lines behind my closed lids.

A barely discernable sigh escapes my mouth.

 _It's always been her._

Looking up, I rest both hands outstretched across the bar. She's not looking at me; she's watching her nervous hands fidgeting.

"Got one of those for me?" I tip my chin towards her pack.

Her head snaps up, a look of surprise on her face before she nods with a smile playing at the curves of her lips as she pushes the pack towards me.

A small laugh. Happy, not cunning.

Not pinching and hurting.

Lips curl into a kissable pout as familiar words whisper through her smile.

"What am I going to do with you?"

* * *

 ** _The End..._**

I must say it's been an incredible ride. Lots of controversy, lots of talk, lots of opinions. I've cherished each one.

Thanks to my banner maker Lolypop82 for putting together my 'vision' for this story. I think if you look at it now that you've read Edward's tale, you'll see an entire story lies there... it may look simple, but it was created with great thought. Hats off to you, my dear.

Thanks to my pre-reader and guest letter-writer, LayAtHomeMom. Your support of me wanting to go over the edge never ceases to surprise me, and I love that you just hang on and steer me right. You are one of the kindest, funniest people I know (I think I've mentioned before that she comments in gif's, right?).

And let's not forget my best friend and beta, Carrie ZM. She really did an amazing job of NOT correcting this the way it probably should be, letting Edward's mind think the way minds think. I know you wanted so many more commas, but thank you for sitting on your hands and letting this just be. Crazy thoughts and all the run on sentences. - you wanna beta that right now, don't you!

But most importantly, **HAPPY BIRTHDAY CARRIE!** You guys can thank her for this story, and the entire thing is dedicated to her. xoxo ILYSFM.

Last but not least, thanks goes to ALL OF YOU that read, discussed, yelled, cried, threw things, shook your heads, worried, cheered, played with matches, and generally let me explore this.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Walking past the cloudy windows, I keep my head straight until the last minute, hoping I look like someone just passing by, an ordinary girl on the street glancing quickly at the crowd assembled inside the aged, comfortable bar. I've tried this a few times now, each time catching a teasing glimpse, not the long moment I'm hoping for. Someone is bound to see me making a fool of myself, but I'm too caught up in my goal to care.

But now, I _think_ I see him carrying cases of beer, but I can't be sure without stopping at those dirty windows and pressing my face up against them like a child looking at all the candy inside they can't have.

Turning away, head down, I tell myself that tomorrow is the day I'll go in.

It's the third day I've told myself that.

* * *

The small studio apartment the producers of the play put me in holds one other girl, both of us in bit parts but excited to finally have a role in a real acting gig. My stuff is still loaded into my two suitcases even though I got here first, giving Jane her first choice of bed and first choice of the drawers in the one dresser. I said nothing when she used all four, not wanting to make waves with someone I might be living with for a while and possibly becoming friendly with.

Although the fact that she doesn't realize she's tripping over my full suitcase every time she goes to the bathroom doesn't make her seem like the kind of person I'd want to get close to.

I've been that girl and I've tried hard to never be her again.

* * *

"Yes, Mom, I'm eating plenty. Don't worry." My cell phone is on its last leg, but I don't plug it in, the fact it'll cut off at any moment giving me a great excuse to be done with her.

"Have you decided if you'll be attending your father's wedding to that hussy?"

My eyes roll, looking at the blinking bar on my phone to rescue me. "I don't think I can. It's right in the middle of previews, and I'm really in no position to take off for two days."

Silence follows, then the unmistakable sound of ice clinking in glass. I look at my watch, a 21st birthday gift to myself, and see it's Martini O'thirty. "I don't know what it is about older men needing a young piece of ass on their arm to make them feel like God's gift."

I rise to stand in the small fire escape, the rusted black bars shaking as I steady myself. "I have to go."

"Now you know I didn't mean you in that sentence. Don't get so dramatic."

"Yes, you did. But it's fine," I say, not wanting another argument. She _never_ means me, and it's _always_ fine.

I listen to her slurp, then her sigh of satisfaction. "Did I tell you that..." and blissfully, my phone dies. I'm tempted to throw it over the railing into the big, smelly dumpster five flights down.

Instead, I climb into my window and grab my charger, plugging it into the outlet in the tiny kitchen. Leaning against the broken cupboard, I wait a few moments to give it some life, before dialing my father's office.

"Swan's Prestige Appliances, this is Angela speaking, how may I help you today?"

"Hey, Angela. It's Bella."

There's the familiar hesitation, then she answers. "Oh hi, Bella. Your father isn't here."

Of course he's not. "Will you leave a message that I called again? I really want to talk to him before the wedding."

"I'll let him know. I'm not sure what time he'll be back."

"I'll try his cell."

"Okay, bye Bella."

The phone hangs up, my goodbye lost over the phone lines. I don't bother calling his cell, not willing to talk to his voicemail yet again, or worse - having my soon-to-be stepmother answer.

* * *

On Tuesday, I sit across the street from The Crow's Nest, nursing a cup of coffee until the waitress gets mad I'm not ordering anything else. I glance at the prices on the menu and choose the tuna sandwich.

As I pick at the crust, I watch for the familiar head of hair, the copper strands that I'll forever feel running through my fingers. He's late today, and I wonder if maybe it's his day off. I start to feel uneasy sitting here waiting, motivated to do nothing else, mirroring behavior that stunned a community and fed the gossip mill for months.

Because it did. Months and months. Long after I'd gone off to California and the pursuit of my dreams. I tried to leave it behind, but you never really can. Especially when every waking moment you're reliving all the pain you caused others through daily phone calls with a mother more concerned about the town's hot story than what that story is doing to her daughter, the town tramp.

* * *

Jane sits next to me on the edge of the little stage, sweat dripping off her as she wipes her forehead with the towel slung around her neck.

"Who knew these fucking lights would be so damn hot?"

I look up at the brightness shining down on us, and I smile. "It's a small theater. Wait until it's filled with a hundred people."

"Let's hope it's a hundred," she snorts. "At least my whole family will be here opening night. That's a guaranteed seven." She rests back on her hands. "What about you?"

I shrug. "I don't think I'll have anyone here."

The look on her face is one I'm used to by now, confusion mixed with sadness aimed at my solitary existence. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine. My mother, well she might show up which honestly, would be more of a hassle than anything. My father will be on his honeymoon so…"

"That sucks."

"Yeah." I look back up at the lights and try to let the feeling of accomplishment wash over me again. I've worked hard for this, and I don't care that it's only a small, shabby theater in the East Village. It's an actual part. No more office jobs, no more waitressing jobs, no more filling in as an extra on TV shows playing on late night cable.

"No boyfriend, either?"

Shaking my head, I fall back onto the stage, staring up at the black ceiling. Pickup trucks, sunny fields, and remorse cloud my vision. "Nope."

My curt answer seems to give me away. "Sounds like there's a story there," Jane says as she lies back with me.

"There is. Maybe I'll tell you someday." Maybe I'll share the saddest story of my life with a girl that doesn't know me.

* * *

I stayed a week longer in that damned town than my father had planned; not wanting to leave after the fire to make sure my mother was fully recovered.

At first the town gossip was all about the fire, Coach Cullen's sudden insanity, and how lucky we were that only the back part of the kitchen and second floor suffered any damage. I was a helpless victim for a little while; one I selfishly played as I stayed at Rosalie's while my parents worked on getting the house fixed.

And then news of the sordid affair between teacher and student began to rear its ugly head. Every punch I threw at Edward in that police station, every word I uttered that night, somehow made the rounds. Love. I had yelled that he loved me. I didn't even remember saying it; I was so filled with hurt and anger.

Not knowing how to handle being the object of scrutiny when the whispers began, I assumed the role of the poor girl taken advantage of. The innocent teenager seduced by a man and igniting the obvious discord within him. The young object of a sick man's obsession.

My parents knew what I told them was the truth of course, that it was an affair I gladly had a part in. The story I cried out on my couch the night we were discovered, urging my father to not go to the police, to not shame Edward for something I was a part of… well it was true, but embellished. I laid it on thick, playing the scared girl that truly didn't know any better. I was sorry Mommy and Daddy, for my actions, but I had been caught up by the idea that such a good looking, older man could have any interest in a sweet girl like me. He was, how did I put it... _persuasive_. They chose to believe me and agreed to keep it quiet, because having it go public would've made Daddy look bad.

And I almost started to believe it myself.

Until I saw Rosalie and Emmett the first day I returned to school, a week after Edward was sent away, and I knew my act for everyone else was as see through to them as my innocence was.

I'd never seen anyone look at me with such disgust. My whole life I was the golden child, the one other girls wanted to be, the one that seemed to never fail at anything. And here I was face to face with two of my best friends, and I knew I'd lost more than my big screen TV and my parents' silky comforter. Edward might have caused the fire that ended it all, but I knew I was the match that started it and the gasoline that gave it life.

I ended up leaving for California the next day and stayed there until the part in New York came up.

* * *

Jane catches on that I leave the theater at break time and make my way six blocks to stare at a bar.

She drinks her Coke across from my seat at the diner window, staring at the glass and patrons as they make their way in and out. She says nothing, just watches me watch.

It must be obvious to her from my sudden stillness when he comes into view, a messenger bag slung over his chest and a box of pizza held on top of one hand. He says something to a guy sitting outside, and they laugh. He looks carefree, happy. He looks like no one I've ever met, because I've never seen this Edward.

"Who is he?" she asks, kicking my foot under the table.

I watch the empty space of doorway he just passed through, my heart kicking as it always did at seeing him, while guilt also surfaces as it has for the past six years.

"He was… someone I broke."

Jane glances at the doorway. "He looks to be in one piece to me."

* * *

Sitting in the last row of the theater, waiting to walk through my scene, I watch the other actors emoting and stumbling over lines. I yawn, the long days of rehearsal taking their toll so I close my eyes, resting my head back until I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. Seeing it's my father, I leave the theater and exit onto the grimy sidewalk, holding one hand over my other ear to block out the street noise.

"Hey Dad."

"Hi honey. I only have a minute, but Angela told me you've tried the store a few times. Why didn't you call the cell?"

"Oh, you know, busy."

"Do you need money?" he asks, even though I turn him down every time.

"Nope, I'm good. Just calling to say I probably won't make the wedding. We'll be in previews."

"Beth and I understand. We're really sorry we won't be there for your big debut, but this is the only time she could get off from the salon, you understand, don't you, sweetheart?"

"Sure."

"I bet your mother isn't going to bother herself even though she has nothing to do, unlike me."

Not wanting to get involved in another mudslinging session with the one parent I have a semblance of a relationship with, I change the subject, asking about resorts in Fiji and telling him about life here in the Big Apple. He makes that huffing sound, the one that tells me he won't warn me again about making sure 'that felon' hasn't tried to contact me.

At least he cares, I suppose.

After a few minutes, I hear the fidgeting on the other end, and the familiar approach of the quick getaway. "Alright sweetheart, I have to go, make sure you have someone take a picture of you up on stage and send it to me, okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I answer, even though I know I won't, and he won't remember to remind me.

* * *

The joint gets passed down the couch, ending up in my fingers while I stare at it. All around me, my fellow cast members blow off steam, getting ready for the big night just a few short days away. I've smoked my share of pot, done a fair amount of other recreational drugs while I learned my skill, Los Angeles being an asylum for out of work actors looking to party and get discovered.

Jane peers at me through slit lids, the effect of the weed hitting her small frame quickly. I can't help but laugh at her as she shoves an entire sleeve of Oreos into her mouth one by one. She calls out to the small crowd around me, telling them about the hottie I've been stalking and I zip my lip, the word feeling scary as it rings in my ears.

Paul, a guy I knew in LA at one of my classes chimes in, and takes the unsmoked joint from my fingers. "Oooh, tell us about him." He crosses his legs and props his chin on his hand, waving at me to have the floor.

"There's nothing to tell." I shrug, and grab the bogarted joint back from him, taking a drag.

"Bullshit."

"Come on, Bella, even the director says you need to let people in. You're too frigid, girl."

It's something I've been told countless times over the last six years, from acting coaches, theater directors, other actors. Loosen up. Show some emotion. _'What is your truth, Bella?'_

"You want the story? I'm the whore of a small town in Oklahoma. A cold, callous bitch."

And most of that was true.

* * *

He was nice to me, out on that sweaty field playing football with kids he truly seemed to enjoy. His enthusiasm became mine, and soon I was looking forward to being there every day even though my friends were at the lake or getting high up in the old barn Rosalie's dad owned.

We laughed at the same jokes; he seemed interested when he asked me about my future plans. When I told him I wanted to be an actress, he didn't tell me to have a backup plan or lecture me about how tough it would be. My parents scoffed at my ideas, but were going along with the plan of going to California to live with my aunt regardless. Their hesitation was mostly an instinctual act of parental duty, because they pretty much let me do what I wanted. The clichéd only child syndrome.

I craved bigger and better things for my life than that town filled with cows, and that desire manifested its way across all facets of my life. Designer clothing, the best car… my desire for control over men fell victim as well. Mike was easy. He gave me the puppy dog attention I craved, that inner need of the actor to have center stage. And he was a fine boyfriend, for a typical high school girl. Which I never felt I was.

I was never _typical_.

Coach Cullen was the town dream, the high school star even though he was long out of it. He knew everyone and everyone knew him. The guy that was friendly to all, respected. Seemingly unaware that he was so much _more_ than everyone else. The man radiated sex, something I saw underneath all the small town hero worship and polyester gym clothes.

He was a happily engaged man, he was unobtainable. And Bella Swan wanted him in all her childish, selfish, teenaged narcissism. So when I saw the cracks I chipped away at his armor on that humid field that summer, I took the chisel and tried to see just how much power I could wield.

So I made my move, and as sure as young cockiness lived within me, I knew he'd fall. And he did exactly that.

Power turned to bitterness as I watched him flirt with his fiancée at games, kissing her on the field and ushering her into the locker room while I witnessed it all, accepting sloppy kisses from Mike. Thinking, 'tonight I won't meet him. I'll show him' which always ended with me caving and meeting him just so he couldn't be with her because I was hooked.

Hooked on everything about him. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me, the way he made me feel like I was the best thing that ever happened to him.

The mistake I made was never letting him know that he was really _that_ for _me_.

It was a sweet victory when he realized his relationship with her couldn't continue. Part of me felt I'd won the game, I'd won the prize, but I think I knew he loved me, really loved me, and it was probably the first time someone had ever wanted to be with me so damn much. I moved along, I let him have those fantasies of us being together fill my own head. I never once told him that it was really all I wanted just in case he was leading me on. Just in case he never really meant to leave her. I pushed Mike away even though I kept him close, always on the edge... just in case. I was a fool trying not to truly become one.

But I loved him. I still do. Flaming logs and burnt siding be damned.

* * *

The day before opening night, I take the much needed night off the director has granted us and do my hair which has lived in a sloppy ponytail for weeks. I take my time with my makeup, making the eyeliner the perfect cat-eye he used to love. I pick up a pack of smokes from the corner deli, the man sitting outside on the crate hooting at me making me uncomfortable instead of powerful. I'm not that girl anymore.

My mind races as I walk those now familiar six blocks, giving myself whiplash as my nerves kick in.

He wants to see me.

He hates me.

He still loves me.

He'll kick me out.

He won't remember me.

He'll let me explain.

Rearing my shoulders back, I raise my head high like a girl I used to know and hold my breath, my foot crossing the threshold of the open doors towards an uncertain future.

* * *

 ** _You may not understand everyone in this story, but remember: even if it's not your truth, it is someone else's._**

 ** _Until next time,  
xoxo PB_**


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